


To Live Another Day

by clockworkouroboros



Series: Gods Among Us [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Character Development, Gen, Hopefully this one is a bit lighter than the last book, I promise there isn’t torture in this one, longfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2020-06-07 17:50:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19474261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkouroboros/pseuds/clockworkouroboros
Summary: After materializing randomly, the Doctor is forced to strike out onto an unknown planet alone. The planet she lands on is home only to a small colony of Tractites and humans, but something is off. Tensions are rising between the two species, and all of it has to do with circumstances beyond anyone’s control. The Doctor has to find out what’s going on and put a stop to it. Because that’s the right thing to do. Right?





	1. I’m Emotional, But I Forgot My Baggage

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Tractites are an actual alien species in Doctor Who, from the planet Tractis! There was a very good (and slightly confusing) book featuring them as the sort-of-villains-but-not-really, called Genocide, starring the Eighth Doctor, Sam Jones, and Jo Grant. If you haven’t read the Eighth Doctor Adventures, this is my plug for them. It’s been like three years since I read Genocide but the Tractites stuck with me because they’re pretty cool.

The Doctor took a solid two weeks (Earth time) to materialize from out of the vortex. She didn’t know where she was going, or what she would do, or how she would go about doing it. All she knew was that she couldn’t take anymore of this limbo between adventures. She was a nonstop person. She needed to be doing things all the time.

The problem was, her companions didn’t seem to want all that much to do with her. Yaz had been the most understanding, but Yaz had gone off with Ryan on an adventure into the TARDIS once she was able to walk on her own, and the Doctor hadn’t seen her since then. Graham was staying in his room, refusing to speak to her. She’d seen him leave once, only to haul a food machine back into his room.

It was all very discouraging. She’d thought they’d be able to move past what had happened on Faure. That they’d be back to normal as soon as Yaz was healed. That’s how it should have been.

She’d somehow overestimated the strength of their bond. She’d thought that they were a team. A family. But she had clearly been wrong. The first sign of trouble, and they were immediately distancing themselves from her.

How had it all gone so wrong? In all of their travels, in all of their adventures, nothing had ever succeeded in driving them apart. But the goddess had managed it. Two weeks on Faure had managed it.

She sighed and rested her head in her hands, waiting for the TARDIS to finish materializing. She didn’t know where they were, or what was going on out there, but she hoped it would help repair some of the broken bonds. She just didn’t know where to start.

She made her way down the softly-lit corridor to Graham’s room, since she still didn’t know where Ryan and Yaz were. The door was shut, which was normal. What wasn’t normal was the fact that the Doctor knew she wasn’t welcome. She knocked gingerly, already wondering if she made the right choice. Graham was angry. She didn’t know if he would even talk to her.

To her surprise, the door opened a crack, and one of Graham’s eyes peered out at her. She quickly stuck her foot in the crack, making sure he couldn’t shut the door once he saw it was her.

“What do you want?” Graham asked shortly. He still sounded angry, but the Doctor could deal with that. At least he was speaking to her again.

The Doctor opened her mouth to speak, forgot what she was going to say, shut her mouth, and shrugged her shoulders, hands spread wide. “We’ve finally landed,” she finally tried. “I was wondering if you wanted to go and see what’s out there.”

Graham opened the door a little bit more, just enough for the Doctor to see him roll his eyes. That wasn’t a good sign. “And find another Faure?” he asked. “I think I’ll sit this one out.”

“I don’t know,” the Doctor replied honestly. “This was a random materialization. We could be anywhere in time and space. Doesn’t that excite you?”

“No,” Graham replied. The Doctor hadn’t been expecting such bluntness. “Not really,” he continued. “Not since you destroyed an entire planet, even when you could have saved them.”

The Doctor could feel her face crumpling. “I tried to explain to you, there was nothing I could do!” she cried, her voice dropping to a strained whisper.

“And that’s not a good enough explanation for any of us,” said Graham.

“Listen,” the Doctor tried. “Let’s just forget all of that and move on. It was a dark time for all of us. I didn’t like what I did anymore than you do. But the only way to rebuild is to move on. And I’m trying to provide an opportunity for it!”

“Thanks,” said Graham, sounding not very thankful. “But I don’t think I want to be in the same room with you for any length of time. Maybe when Ryan and Yaz get back.”

“Who knows when that will happen?” the Doctor asked bitterly. “The TARDIS is functionally limitless. Even I don’t know her full extent.” She decided not to add the part about the chances of their getting lost in the TARDIS and never finding their way back to the console room. That was always a possibility, but she didn’t want Graham even angrier at her.

“All the same, I’m going to wait for them,” Graham replied. “You can go on ahead, and we’ll catch you up.”

“Alright,” the Doctor agreed reluctantly. “But part of the fun is discovering new things with your friends.”

“No offense to you, Doc,” Graham said, “but I don’t think you’re our friend anymore.” He pushed her foot out of the doorway and shut the door in her face.

The Doctor stood before the door for a few moments longer, too stunned to move. She knew things were bad, but she had assumed their friendship was going through a rough patch. She hadn’t ever doubted that they were still friends.

She crossed her arms, then uncrossed them, then hugged herself as she began to walk away, back to the console room. She wondered if there was something she could do to salvage their friendship, or if she should just take them all back to Earth and drop them off. Let them continue with their ordinary, boring lives. The lives she’d rescued them from.

As she walked around the console, she decided against that course of action. They might get angrier at her if she arbitrarily decided to take them home. They hadn’t actually requested it. Maybe that meant there was some hope for them, after all. No, she wouldn’t take them home until they actually asked her. And if they were gone exploring the TARDIS (or, in Graham’s case, sulking in his bedroom and refusing to speak to her), then they couldn’t ask her to go home. She’d go explore alone, then. It would be fine. It would be fantastic. Brilliant, even.

Despite her assurances to herself, the Doctor’s shoulders slumped as she made her way to the door and walked out. It just wasn’t the same when you were by yourself.

But once she was outside, on the surface of the planet, it was impossible for her bad mood to stay. It was beautiful. It reminded the Doctor of why she had wanted to travel in the first place, millennia ago.

The sun was setting, bathing the sky in reds and pinks and violets, the oncoming night sky a deep blue. The TARDIS had landed on top of a hill, and the Doctor could survey the surrounding countryside. Below, smaller hills, covered in broad-leafed trees filled the landscape, the reds and golds of the leaves reflecting the dying sunlight. Directly below, at the bottom of the hill (or mountain, the Doctor supposed) there was a small settlement. The Doctor could spot the distinctive architecture of the Tractite race, but it was mixed with other, more unfamiliar elements. She wondered if it was a mixed colony, perhaps. She remembered the Tractites vaguely. That had been several incarnations ago. They had caused a lot of problems. She reminded herself that these Tractites would have no idea what had happened, as those events had all been part of a potentially universe-ending paradox, and, as a result, the offending parties didn’t really exist anymore.

She was glad of the long-sleeved shirt she was wearing underneath her short sleeves, though: as the night progressed, she could feel the temperature dropping. It wasn’t cold, certainly not like Faure, but it was noticeable. She wondered if the colors of the trees meant it was autumn in this part of the planet, or if the trees were naturally autumnal colors. The exciting part about being on an unknown planet was not knowing simple things like that.

She began to make her way down the hillside, stopping to appreciate the unusual flowers and insects. She could truly say that she had never been to this planet before. The only familiar thing for miles around was the settlement with Tractite architecture.

The settlement was mostly quiet by the time she arrived in it. That made sense, she reflected, since it was getting dark out. She didn’t like it at all, though—empty towns always made her uneasy. Too much of an opportunity for a jump scare.

But this town seemed harmless enough. She began to wander through the streets, inspecting the houses and buildings, looking for some sign of life. Somewhere where she could stay for the night, hopefully. She didn’t want to go back to the TARDIS. Not the way the current atmosphere was.

She saw a thin strip of light beneath one of the doors, and cautiously knocked. This house wasn’t in the Tractite style, that much was patently obvious. And sure enough, when the door opened up, it was a human who stood in the doorway, looking annoyed.

“Mauvril, if you’re trying to borrow my—” She broke off quickly upon seeing the Doctor. She was a pretty enough woman—old enough to have a few white hairs dotting her head, but young enough that her skin was unlined, save for the smile-lines around her mouth. Her eyes were large, or perhaps she was just surprised. “Who are you?” she asked, rather rudely.

The Doctor had a sudden urge to introduce herself while politely lifting a hat from her head, and then she remembered that she wasn’t wearing a hat. Oh, well. She’d just have to grab one the next time she was in the TARDIS. “Sorry to bother you,” she said, deciding that, since she couldn’t doff her hat, an apologetic tone would be better. “But I’m new around here and haven’t anywhere to stay. I’m the Doctor, by the way. What did you say your name was?”

The woman still looked confused. “A doctor?” she asked. “We don’t need any doctors around here.”

The Doctor grinned. “Not a medical doctor, not usually,” she assured the woman. “May I step inside?” Without waiting for a response, she did just that. The woman continued to stare.

“I’m sorry, but I really have no clue who you are,” she finally said.

“I already told you!” The Doctor flashed a bright smile at her. “I’m the Doctor.”

“Yes, but Doctor who? Doctor of what? You can’t expect me to trust you just from learning your title. There are plenty of folks who use a title as a way to hide their true identity so they can do bad things. How do I know you won’t murder me in my sleep?” She paused, then added, rather lamely, “...or something like that?”

“You’ll just have to trust me,” the Doctor replied. “I promise I don’t bite. Or murder.”

The woman laughed, almost in spite of herself. “Those two things are very dissimilar.” She held out her hand. “I’m Maesa, by the way. You asked before.”

The Doctor shook her hand. She hated shaking hands; she was never sure how long it should go before it got awkward. But it seemed to satisfy Maesa, and the Doctor’s number one priority was to keep Maesa happy. If she could keep her happy, then she could learn about the planet and also have a place to stay.

“Now,” said Maesa, “could you please move out of the doorway so I can actually shut the door? It’s getting cold out.”

The Doctor obliged, and soon she was sitting at Maesa’s table, drinking some sort of tea, and learning as much as she could about where she was.

“This is going to sound like a really stupid question,” the Doctor began, “but the navigation on my ship doesn’t always work, and I have no idea where in the universe I am. I was wondering what planet this is?”

“Aren’t we all,” Maesa said quietly. “This planet has an official designation, but no one who lives here actually likes it. And the humans and Tractites can’t agree on a colloquial name, so at the moment we’re stuck.”

“What’s the official designation, then?”

“K’rox’r.” She sighed. “Like I said, no one here actually likes it. It’s the one spot of contention between us and the Tractites.” She took a sip of tea and studied the Doctor’s face. “You  _ do _ know who—and what—the Tractites are, don’t you?”

“Of course I do!” the Doctor replied indignantly. “Four eyes? Three fingers? Sort of like a cross between a horse and an ox?” She lowered her mug of tea. “I’ve had to deal with rogue Tractites before.”

Maesa’s eyes widened. “Really? They’re so  _ peaceful _ , though. I can’t imagine any of them ever going rogue.” She clicked her tongue. “Now us humans, on the other hand…”

The Doctor smiled ruefully. “I know. I’ve dealt with rogue humans, too.”

“So are you some sort of, I don’t know, adjudicator?” Maesa asked.

“Not really,” the Doctor replied quickly. “Just an inveterate do-gooder. But right now what I need is some rest.”

She wasn’t going to tell Maesa anything else; she didn’t need another person angry or afraid or whatever emotion it was that Graham and Ryan and Yaz were feeling. Maesa was a new person, and a sweet person. The Doctor wasn’t about to frighten her off.

She wondered when Graham and the others would appear.  _ If _ they appeared. To her surprise, she was almost hoping that they wouldn’t.


	2. Sulking is a Dangerous Pasttime

The fight had been loud and long, and when it was over Tansil needed time to cool off. Get away from Hanna. She needed time to think. Which was why she headed into the forest. At dusk.

It was fine. It wasn’t like there were any predators in the woods. Just trees. And her eyes saw well in the dark. Call it a benefit of being a Tractite. Better night vision than a human. Stupid humans.

Oh, and now she felt guilty. She didn’t actually hate humans, nor did she think they were all that stupid. She loved Hanna, didn’t she? If she’d had some sort of deep-seated hatred for humans, she wouldn’t live with one.

As she walked through the town, she saw an odd-looking human through a window—that was where Maesa lived. Everyone in the town knew everyone else. That’s just how it is when you live on an almost-totally-empty colony world. The only reason Tansil even took any notice of the odd-looking human was because she didn’t recognize the human. She was pale, with blonde hair that reached only slightly lower than her jaw. She was sitting at a table with Maesa, talking to her.

Did Maesa have family visiting, Tansil wondered vaguely, or had some random stranger just shown up and imposed herself on Maesa’s hospitality? It was all very odd.

Still, Tansil didn’t really care. She didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, especially not humans. Hanna was driving her insane.

“Relationships are stupid,” she mumbled out loud, then continued walking, out of the town, towards the forest. She shivered, and sniffed the air. Something smelled strange. She suddenly wondered if she wanted to go into the forest after all.

—————

Yaz stood up, ignoring the way the bench she’d been sitting on melted back into the ground once it was no longer in use. “Come on, let’s go,” she said, jerking her head in the direction of the path.

“You sure?” Ryan asked. He looked at her, very obviously trying to ignore the bench. He looked uncertain, and Yaz bit back a sigh of annoyance.

Instead of replying, she just started walking, thankful that the path was even, made of fine gravel. It made walking a little bit easier. Ryan quickly fell into step beside her, but he still looked worried.

Yaz wished he would calm down. She was fine. Mostly fine, at least. Sure, she couldn’t stretch her arms above her head, and yeah, she had to sit every now and then, but she was out and about, walking, getting better.

The TARDIS corridors had gradually (after several days of walking) given way to a vast mountain range, one that offered breathtaking views of a green valley below. It was all a bit surreal. Yaz wondered if it was possible to get down to the valley, or if it was just some kind of projection. She hadn’t been expecting the TARDIS to have, you know,  _ all of this _ in it.

“This place is weird,” Ryan suddenly said, giving voice to her thoughts. “I mean, it’s really cool, but-”

“-But there’s no animals or wind or even a different temperature,” Yaz suggested. “And it’s always daylight, unless we want to sleep…”

“Yeah, and then it suddenly gets dark.”

“It’s like being outside, but in like, a hotel version of outside,” Yaz tried.

Ryan nodded. “I don’t like it very much,” he confessed.

“I can’t decide,” Yaz admitted. She looked around, looked over the edge of the path to the valley below. “D’you want to turn around?”

He shrugged. “Your choice. I don’t really care. It’s just weird up here.”

Yaz considered. “I sort of want to see what’s down there,” she finally said, pointing down at the valley. She tried not to wince at the motion; it had been a little too fast, and had jarred at the scabs on her sides.

Ryan gave her a concerned glance, and she felt the annoyance rising up again. But he only shrugged again and said, “Okay. If you’re up for it.”

They kept walking in silence, Yaz still annoyed by Ryan’s attempts to baby her. Okay, she’d been hurt. Now she was mostly-not-hurt. Why couldn’t he just let her be? Was he worried that she was out and about? Did he think that she should have stayed in bed, or stayed in her room, or stayed with the Doctor?

She rolled her eyes at that. She wasn’t going to stay with the Doctor. And she wasn’t going to stay with Graham. Both were refusing to listen to anyone other than themselves.

Well. That wasn’t quite true. They were willing to listen to others, as long as it was in agreement with what they already thought.

The atmosphere back in what Yaz called ‘the unit’ was stifling. So different from how it once had felt. Was it really only a few weeks ago that it was a place of wonder and excitement, where anything could happen, and quite frequently did?

It was dark there, now. Filled with words, both spoken and unspoken. The dead silence of the TARDIS console room was pervasive; it filled every corner of the ship, and crept into the people onboard, leaving them annoyed and tense, ready to snap out at the nearest person and then retreat in silence to sulk.

Yaz hated it. She hated it with a passion, quite possibly more than she’d ever hated anything in her life, the goddess included. She’d been able to endure the goddess as long as she remembered her friends and the TARDIS. And then she got back, and it was like this.

At this point, she just wanted to go home and hug everyone in her family—even her sister—and maybe cry. Crying wasn’t normal for Yaz, but then again, neither was being tortured by a goddess or getting betrayed by the person you trusted most in the universe.

Alright, that was a little harsh. The Doctor hadn’t actually gone and betrayed her, Yaz, specifically. But the Doctor’s actions, and the Doctor’s refusal to acknowledge her bad actions? That was a bit of a betrayal.

The Doctor was supposed to be a hero. The Doctor  _ was _ a hero. Or, at least, she had been. She hadn’t ever failed Yaz. Yaz didn’t think the Doctor  _ could _ fail her.

And then Faure had happened.

Yaz shivered suddenly, and didn’t even snap when Ryan put a protective arm around her shoulders.

—————

Okay, so the forest at night was a little creepy. And it smelled funny. Different than its daytime scent. Which was odd, because the time of day shouldn’t change how something smells.

Tansil was beginning to regret her dramatic exit into the forest, but she was too stubborn to come back out so quickly. Hanna had said some terrible things.

Of course, so had Tansil. But she was ignoring that bit, because she enjoyed being a wounded innocent. As long as she stayed in the forest, she could continue to be a wounded innocent. As soon as she went home, though, she’d have to own up to her mistakes. Admit her own faults. Apologize for the inexcusable things she’d said and hope Hanna could forgive her. Although, given some of the things Hanna had said, it would be utterly hypocritical if she weren’t forgiven.

All of that was beside the point, though, since Tansil wasn’t ready to leave the forest and fix her relationship. She let out a heavy sigh. The sound bounced around the trees, echoing through the forest. She didn’t realize she had been that loud. Not that it mattered. No one did anything in the forest at night, and there weren’t any predators on this planet.

“Why should I be scared?” Tansil muttered sulkily. She wasn’t sure if she was talking about being in the forest in the dark, or going back home and facing up to her problems. She decided it was about being in the forest in the dark.

She shrugged her shoulders. The night air was chilly. “Yeah,” she said, slightly louder this time. “Why should I be scared? It’s just an empty old forest. It’s not like I’m forbidden from coming out here.” She laughed, then, loudly, even though she wasn’t in a laughing mood. She wanted to make a point, even though there was no one else around.

The laugh echoed around the forest the same way her sigh had. Tansil listened to it die out with satisfaction. The heavy silence of the forest fell on her again.

...And then she heard a laugh. It was quiet, the echo of the echo of a laugh, or maybe it was just from far away, but she could hear it. It grew louder, and it sounded awfully familiar.

She was listening to herself, she realized. Her own laugh, repeating and augmenting, growing louder and louder.

“What’s happening?” she asked, her voice catching in her throat.

There was no reply, but the laugh continued. It had reached the peak of its crescendo; it flooded the forest and hurt Tansil’s ears. But even as she spoke, it began to die away again, like some sort of awful siren.

Silence settled over the forest. A tree creaked overhead.

Tansil backed away, though she wasn’t sure what she was backing away from. She needed to get back to the settlement, tell the others that something strange was going on in the forest. Something potentially sinister.

Even as she turned to go back, she knew she wouldn’t say anything. No one would believe her. This was a safe planet, there were no natural predators for the colonists. It was safe.

Wasn’t it?

It was just someone playing a nasty prank on her, right? It had to be. Tansil nodded in the dark, trying to reassure herself, even though her frantic attempts at calming herself were only making her more nervous. Just a prank. Someone out in the woods, laughing at her to scare her.

But it was her voice. And someone recording her laugh for the express purpose of scaring her crossed the line from mean-spirited prank to actually creepy, genuinely scary.

She’d go back and she’d tell Hanna everything. Hanna would know what to do, she was more level-headed than Tansil. She’d be able to explain everything. Or if she couldn’t explain everything, she’d at least be able to come up with a plan to figure out what was going on. That was the right thing to do.

Only Hanna was currently fuming over their argument. She probably wouldn’t even believe Tansil, not unless she came running back seriously injured. Tansil briefly considered injuring herself, then decided against it. If there was someone out in the forest, injuring herself could only help it. She paused for a moment, trying to figure out the smartest thing to do.

And then she heard the humming.

A woman’s voice was humming quietly, some melody that Tansil didn’t recognize. And if Tansil strained, she could hear the woman’s footsteps, too.

She remembered the stranger she’d seen in Maesa’s house. Was it her? Had she been behind the laughing, too?

She squinted in the darkness, and could just make out the woman, further down the path, farther into the forest. It wasn’t the stranger who had been in Maesa’s house, the hair was all wrong.

But that didn’t change the fact that the woman was walking straight towards Tansil, an odd, almost vacant smile on her face. The woman looked straight into Tansil’s eyes, and the smile widened into something more like a grin. 

The humming stopped.

Tansil turned and ran, as far from that woman as she could, but before she could get all that far, she tripped over something in the path and fell. She looked over her shoulder, back at the woman.

The woman was standing directly behind her.

“Don’t try running away,” the woman said.

Tansil scrabbled backwards, away from the woman. She didn’t know how, but the woman had her voice, that was _ her _ voice coming from the woman’s mouth.

The woman watched Tansil’s attempts to get away for a moment, then sighed, that same, deep sigh that Tansil had let out earlier. “I told you not to run away,” she said. “I didn’t want to have to do this.”

And Tansil screamed.


	3. Casual Interspecies Lesbians

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My schedule is beginning to calm down, so I’m hoping to have more regular updates beginning around now. So sorry for the erratic updating so far!!

The Doctor didn’t actually sleep. She was able to rest a bit, get a bit of energy, but she didn’t sleep. She didn’t need it, so why bother? By the end of the night, though, she was almost wishing that she had slept. With nothing better to do, she had spent the night thinking. And thinking never led anywhere good, not in situations like this. This wasn’t thinking, this was brooding. Maybe sulking.

After she had thought herself into an abstract concept and back into reality (a fun little exercise guaranteed to mess with one’s concept of their own self worth), she began thinking about her friends.

Thinking about them was almost worse than thinking herself into an abstract concept. The Doctor finally got up out of the guest bed and wandered over to the window, forcing her body to do something in the hopes that her mind would latch onto something else to obsess over.

She looked out over the little settlement, with its small rows of small houses, Tractite architecture intermingled with human. It was refreshing to see different species living in harmony. It didn’t happen very often. She wondered how the Tractites and humans had managed to reconcile their differences. Last she’d heard about the history of the Tractite race, the humans had invaded Tractis and made the natives their slaves.

Not exactly a proud moment for the humans, the Doctor reflected. She wondered if the Tractites here were slaves. She’d have to ask Maesa in the morning. It hadn’t  _ sounded _ like the Tractites were slaves, but sometimes it was hard to tell, especially when talking to a potential slave owner.

But of course Maesa wouldn’t be a slave owner, she couldn’t be. This entire colony was too plain, too simple to be that sort of colony. The people here looked like they were living good lives, but very spartan ones. The Doctor wondered if she had accidentally landed in the middle of the neo-Puritan movement. She hoped not. The neo-Puritans were no fun. Although, she quickly added, they were much better than the original Puritans.

She was just about to leave the window, go back to the bed and lay down in a futile attempt at feigning sleep, when she heard a distant scream. A grin, catlike, slowly lit up her face, and she had the sudden urge to pump her fist in the air.

“Brilliant,” the Doctor breathed. Things were finally starting to get interesting.

—————

Yaz and Ryan were very carefully making their way down the mountain, grateful that the slope, while steep, wasn’t too treacherous. Ryan, as a rule, didn’t pray, but that didn’t stop him from repeating, mantra-like,  _ don’t trip, don’t trip, don’t trip, don’t trip, _ in his head the entire time. Dyspraxia made things that would be easy for anyone else difficult, if not impossible, for him.

He seemed to be doing okay so far, though. Still, he didn’t like it. Made him so afraid that he was barely paying attention to Yaz, which then made him feel guilty. An all-around bad problem.

Ryan knew that Yaz didn’t want him babying her or looking out for her any more than he normally would, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t look at her without remembering her back on Faure, all weakness and coughing and shivering and death. Yeah, so she was doing better now. Didn’t change the fact that she was walking slower, stumbling more, and wincing frequently.

Overall, he didn’t want her making this trip down the mountainside anymore than he wanted to be doing it. Which is to say, he didn’t want it at all. But Yaz wanted to go down into that valley, and who was he to say no? She’d had a lot of bad things happen recently. She should be allowed to do whatever the hell she wanted. It was the least she deserved after Faure. And anyway, climbing down wasn’t so bad, was it? They were doing alright. Yaz seemed to be okay.

And that was when the ground began to shake, and the artificial daylight began to  _ flicker, _ and it felt like the world was going to collapse around them. Ryan was caught off-guard—of course he was, he hadn’t been expecting a bloody  _ earthquake, _ now, was he?—and fell onto the rocky ground. In the corner of his eye, he could see Yaz fall, too, and was she clutching at her side? If some of her wounds had been reopened just from falling, he never should have let her go down the mountain.

A little voice in his head told him that he wouldn’t have been able to stop Yaz. She was a natural leader, and he…was not. Not that he wouldn’t  _ like _ to be, of course, just that he was rubbish at those sorts of things. Yaz was much better at assessing a situation and providing the kind of leader the situation called for. He didn’t know how she did it.

He reached over, grabbed onto Yaz’s arm, and held on tight. He trusted that the TARDIS could keep its mountains from creating any landslides, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous. He felt a hand grip tightly around his own arm, and knew that Yaz probably felt the same way. He couldn’t quite see her, but that was just because the daylight was still flickering.

Something _shifted_ beneath him, and suddenly he and Yaz were falling, falling, falling, and someone was screaming. He suddenly realized that the person screaming was _him_ and he tried to stop, but found that he couldn’t. And even though Ryan wasn’t the sort of person to pray, he found himself praying desperately for this all to stop.

Ryan blinked. The sky was bright. He was sitting on some sort of cushion, feeling surprisingly relaxed. The mountainside had vanished, and he was now surrounded by vegetation, all a bright, healthy green.

“Huh.” It was all Ryan could think to say. His mind was still moving a hundred miles a minute, and he couldn’t quite process what had happened. It didn’t help that he had no idea what had happened in the first place.

He struggled to come up with some other words. “I—What just happened?” he asked.

Silence.

He shrugged. “At least nobody got hurt?” he tried. He turned on his cushion, trying to find Yaz, since that’s who he was speaking to.

Only she wasn’t there. And she wasn’t behind him. And when he called her name, she wasn’t answering.

Ryan swore loudly. “This is Faure all over again.”

—————

As the Doctor ran down the stairs and through the kitchen, she bumped into Maesa, who was wearing a dressing gown and looked like she had been sleeping only a few seconds earlier.

“Did you hear that?” she cried, her voice still thick with sleep.

“The screaming?” the Doctor asked.

Maesa nodded.

“Then yes,” the Doctor confirmed. “Do you have any idea who it might be? Or who might be responsible? Or what’s going on at all?”

Maesa shook her head.

The Doctor shrugged. “Oh well,” she said. “It was worth a try. Let me know if you remember anything more fully when you’re less—” she waved a hand— “adrenaline-ized. And maybe slightly more awake.” She paused. “Who do we need to alert?”

“There’s an adjudicator a little further in town,” Maesa replied, her voice rising like she was asking some sort of question. She took a deep breath, and her shoulders relaxed. “I need to come with you, Doctor. I’m the resident nurse.” Her voice sounded calmer, more reassured, even if she still sounded half-asleep.

The Doctor grinned at her. “And I’m your not-so-resident Doctor!” she exclaimed. “Come on, lead the way.”

“What, dressed like this?” Maesa protested. The indignation in her voice was almost comical.

“Remember,” the Doctor said helpfully. “We’re only up because someone was screaming. I don’t think it matters how you dress when someone’s life could be on the line.”

“You think someone’s  _ dead?” _ Maesa cried. “I’ve never had to deal with a death before, what d’you  _ mean _ someone’s life could—”

“You’re a nurse and you’ve never had to deal with death before?” the Doctor asked incredulously. “Never mind,” she added quickly. “We don’t have the time for it. We need to hurry!”

She ran out the door, pulling Maesa along behind her—she had grabbed the woman’s hand, and she didn’t seem to mind. The night air was cool, and she could see that Maesa was already shivering, despite the dressing gown.

“Which way do we go?” she asked, and Maesa pointed down the street with her free hand.

“That way. Come on, I don’t know where the screaming was coming from.” She began to run, and now she was the one pulling the Doctor behind her.

It struck the Doctor as they ran that they couldn’t possibly be the only people who had heard the screaming. Why weren’t there more people outside, trying to find out what had happened? Was it dangerous outside at night? If it was, why was someone out here alone?

There were too many questions and no time for the Doctor to get any answers. She thought she saw someone open their door and step outside, but they were moving too fast, in too much of a hurry for the Doctor to see who.

“Wait! Stop!”

Ah. So there  _ had _ been a person there. The Doctor and Maesa skidded to a halt, and both turned around. It was a young human woman, also in a dressing gown and shivering, long brown hair in a thick braid over her shoulder.

“Hanna?” Maesa asked. “Why are you up so late?”

The young woman—Hanna—walked up to them. “I could be asking you the same thing,” she said weakly. “I’ve been waiting up for Tansil. She—we had a bit of an argument, and she stormed off. She hasn’t come back yet, and I heard a scream, and then I saw you two running down the street.”

“You’re worried that it was Tansil screaming?” the Doctor asked.

Hanna looked at the Doctor skeptically. “Who’re you?”

“I’m the Doctor,” said the Doctor. “And you’re worried that it was Tansil screaming. Who’s Tansil, by the way? Sibling?”

“My wife,” Hanna replied quietly. “And I’m certain it was her. It sounded like her voice. I just—”

Maesa put a comforting hand on Hanna’s shoulder. “We’re on our way to Mauvril’s house, letting him know what’s going on. Maybe we can organize some sort of search party for Tansil. It’ll be alright, Hanna.”

“Can I come with you?” Hanna asked. Unshed tears reflected in the moonlight.

“We have to hurry,” the Doctor said. “But I don’t suppose you’ll need any reminding of that.”

They set off again, Hanna trailing behind Maesa and the Doctor. Soon they reached the house of the adjudicator, this Mauvril that Maesa had mentioned, and were knocking on the door with all the force they could muster.

It swung open a few minutes later, and the Doctor suddenly felt very, very small. Mauvril was a Tractite, and a big one.

“What’s happening? Who’s hurt?” he asked, all confusion. His eyes focused on the Doctor, narrowing with what the Doctor could only describe as hostility. “And who are you?”


	4. There’s No Time...Which Is Kind Of Funny, When You Think About It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief flashback to Yaz getting some of her (many) injuries on Faure, not too bad, but if you’re queasy about that sort of thing, this is just a warning.

The Doctor blinked. “I’m the Doctor,” she said quickly, her eyes darting from Maesa to Hanna to Mauvril. She held up her hands, and let her eyes grow wide, an expression of earnestness. “That’s not the important fact right now, though. Mauvril—Maesa referred to you as Mauvril, so I assume that’s your name—I understand you’re an adjudicator?” She was talking quickly, spewing words a mile a minute, trying to get back to the subject at hand. At this rate, it would be too late to save whoever had been screaming.

Mauvril lowered his head. “So I am. And that means it’s my duty to question strangers when they appear in the middle of the night, crying about emergency.”

“There  _ is _ an actual emergency,” Maesa interrupted, before the Doctor could reply. “And the Doctor couldn’t have done it, because she just landed on the planet and was staying the night at my house.”

If Tractites had eyebrows, Mauvril’s would have been raised skeptically. Instead, he grunted. “Hm. And the emergency?”

“Tansil’s missing,” Hanna blurted out. “We had an argument, a big one, and she went off a little while ago to take a walk. Clear her head, I guess. And then we heard a scream just now, from off in the forest, and it—” Her voice cracked, and tears that were gathering in the corners of her eyes began to spill over. They reflected in the bright moonslight. “It sounded like it was her screaming.” The tears were falling in earnest now, and Maesa put an arm around Hanna and held her close. “I never even apologized,” Hanna whispered. “And now she could be hurt, or she could be—”

“That’s enough, Hanna.” Mauvril cut her off sharply, and although his voice was still gruff, his expression had softened. The Doctor decided she could work with him. Probably. Unless he did something completely uncharacteristic of a Tractite and start killing people. Mauvril stepped out of his door and carefully shut it behind him. “Why didn’t you tell me right away that Tansil was missing?” he asked Hanna.

“I didn’t know she was missing!” Hanna cried. “I thought she’d gone to stay with a friend or something. We’d had a big fight, I already told you that!”

Mauvril walked past her and began pacing, walking in circles. “We need to organize a search party for Tansil, try and find her—or her body.”

“Is it safe?” the Doctor asked, feeling slightly out of the loop.

“The forest is perfectly safe,” Mauvril said, speaking as if this was common knowledge. “There are no natural predators of Tractites or humans on this planet; we are perfectly safe unless some stranger introduces a rogue element that  _ is _ harmful.” He stared pointedly at the Doctor.

“Why would I want to kill Hanna’s wife?” the Doctor asked. “I don’t kill. I hate it, actually.”

Mauvril watched her closely, head tilting. “Maybe you do, maybe you don’t,” he finally said. “But you have the stench of death surrounding you.” As if to punctuate his remark, he inhaled deeply, wrinkling his nose. “Disgusting.”

Right. Tractites and their smelling. Although the Doctor wasn’t sure if Mauvril could actually  _ smell _ death on a person, or if he was just the sort of person to be dramatic.

But there wasn’t time for the Doctor to reflect on that any further, to try and reason away even the potential of her smelling like death, if that was even possible. The screaming had died away, yes, but that just meant the person screaming was either unconscious or…

The Doctor didn’t want to think about that.

As if reading the Doctor’s mind, Mauvril turned to Maesa. “Well?” he asked. “Where did the screaming come from?”

Maesa’s mouth opened dumbly. She swallowed. “The forest, I think.” She managed a shrug, a difficult feat for someone with two arms wrapped around someone else. “You know how sound echoes around here, it’s hard to be sure—”

”We’ll start in the forest, then. Tansil is smart, she wouldn’t stray from the cleared path, not in the dark like that.” Mauvril stalked away from her, down the road.

“Where are you going?” the Doctor demanded, trying to catch up to his long strides. It didn’t help that he was several feet taller than her. Even at her tallest, the Doctor would have struggled to keep up with a Tractite. She managed to catch up and ran alongside him, wishing she could look a little more dignified.

“Why should I tell you?” Mauvril countered. He was good, the Doctor reflected. Didn’t just automatically trust her. It was annoying, of course, but she could respect it.

“I can help. Probably.” She winced inwardly at that. Never show weakness, especially not when you look like a woman. Admitting that she might not be able to help was definitely a sign of weakness. Although—maybe sexism wasn’t such a huge thing in this era. She didn’t know what era she was in, exactly. People weren’t telling her all that much.

Mauvril ignored her and kept walking.

”Seriously,” the Doctor said, a little breathless. The running was at such an awkward pace; not full-out running, but too fast for walking. The Doctor wasn’t used to this. “I can help. I specialize in helping people.”

“Don’t all doctors?” Mauvril asked. His voice was scathing. He really was upset about that whole death-smell thing, wasn’t he?

“Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah,” the Doctor said, her finger in the air. “You’ve got me confused with  _ ordinary _ doctors. I’m  _ the _ Doctor, not just  _ a _ doctor.”

“And that should mean something to me?”

“It should mean everything to you,” the Doctor replied earnestly. Her hazel eyes were wide, her fists clenched. 

Mauvril stopped walking and sighed heavily. “Fine. Since you won’t leave me alone, and since you’re under the delusion that you can be a help and not a hindrance, I’m going to the town square.”

“You have a town square and everything?” the Doctor exclaimed. “You really are a proper colony world, aren’t you? I haven’t seen a colony with a town square in  _ centuries!” _

From the look Mauvril was giving her, her interruption had been unwelcome. “I’m alerting the colonists,” he told her. “We have a town bell that is only to be rung in case of emergencies—”

“You know, I read a book about a town like that, “ the Doctor interrupted. “Stone Soup. Based off of the folktale called Nail Soup, or something like that. It’s about not being a miser.” She cut off abruptly. “I can’t believe there’s an actual town bell!” she added excitedly.

“Are you finished?” Mauvril asked, his voice like ice. “You might have forgotten, but we do have an actual emergency.”

“Right.” The Doctor assumed a serious, worried expression. “Let’s go, then.”

—————

Yaz opened her eyes. She was laying on something soft, and her sides were on fire. For a moment, she just lay there, wondering how she got to wherever she was. Wherever she was, it was dark.

As if it had sensed she was awake, a soft glow filled the room, allowing her to get a good look at her surroundings.

She was laying on a bed—on  _ her _ bed, it seemed—and the room around her looked like it was her room. An ornate wardrobe in the corner, its doors cracked open slightly because the catch didn’t work; A desk next to it with a lamp and two books; a canopy over the bed (Yaz had wanted a canopy bed for as long as she could remember. But her family lived in an apartment, so she and her sister had to share bunk beds). Next to the bed was a nightstand with some old things Yaz didn’t entirely recognize—a black-and-white photo of an old man and a teenage girl, a small, faded Greenpeace sticker, and, for some god-forsaken reason, a recorder. None of those things belonged to Yaz, and it only served to remind her that the Doctor had had friends before her. Friends the Doctor never talked about.

In some ways, the TARDIS terrified her. She knew nothing about it, she realized. It was an old time-and-space machine, and the Doctor talked about it as if it were alive. And if that was the case, then she was laying on a bed inside a massive, ancient,  _ living _ time-and-space machine, and that was even worse.

She didn’t like thinking about it that way, so she usually didn’t. But right now, she was questioning everything, everything that she hadn’t thought to question or refused to question before all of that...stuff with the goddess on Faure.

Yaz wasn’t used to feeling scared. And after all that time on Faure, and now in the TARDIS, she had come to the conclusion that she hated it.

She’d been operating under the impression that, if friends with the Doctor, you couldn’t get hurt. The Doctor would keep you safe. She always had, and, Yaz had assumed, she always would.

And then Faure happened. Yaz hated sleeping now, because of Faure. She had these nightmares, these nightmares that were more like actual memories. Every time she slept, it seemed that she could feel the goddess’s hooked knife cutting into her skin, its metal cold against her. Every time she woke up, her sides would be itching, or burning, or aching, and when she inspected them in the mirror, they would be inflamed, the skin around the scabs puckered and red.

That was the Doctor’s fault, wasn’t it? At least partially. It had been the Doctor’s plan to go to Faure, it had been the Doctor who refused to leave after they saw it was ruined, it had been the Doctor who stalled in trying to rescue Yaz. Did the Doctor actually care for them, or was she just talking it up? Yaz didn’t actually know anymore. And that scared her.

Yaz sat upright in her bed, suddenly remembering Ryan. The TARDIS mountain range. Falling, falling, falling…

What had happened? How had she gotten back to her room? Had she blacked out, had Ryan carried her back? She stood up, ignoring the pain shooting up her sides. Maybe Ryan was in his room, or maybe he was in the kitchen, or in the console room, or the pool. He probably wasn’t in the library, because he didn’t read very much.

An infinitely large space just meant it was difficult to find people.

She crept out of her room, still feeling slightly terrified of the TARDIS—she remembered something moving beneath her feet, like the mountain was some giant monster that had just woken up, or maybe it was an earthquake, but it didn’t feel right for an earthquake. Not that Yaz had ever experienced an earthquake, but she had imagined what it must feel like. But more importantly, it was as if something was looming right at the back of her consciousness, making her  _ feel _ the shifting of the mountain in her mind. She didn’t know how to describe it, and even trying to remember that feeling was difficult, a hazy mist between her and the memory.

When she got to Ryan’s room, it was empty. The bed was unmade, and clothes lay on the floor. The air in the room tasted stale, like the door hadn’t been opened in several days, at the least.

She wondered a little bit at that. How  _ had _ she gotten to her room if Ryan wasn’t around? Or was he around, but refusing to use his room, for whatever reason? It all seemed weird, and it made Yaz curious—but she also didn’t want to do something potentially dangerous, and right now the TARDIS seemed very dangerous.

She shut the door to his room and kept walking down the corridor, the blue-and-gold light from the roundels in the walls dimly illuminating her path. She meant to make the turning for the kitchen, see if Ryan was in there, but force of habit led her past that corridor, and she kept walking until she was in the console room. Maybe she’d see the Doctor.

But it was empty, the roundelled walls dim, the central console dark. Even the familiar humming of the TARDIS that usually permeated the background was gone. The silence was eerie, and Yaz suddenly felt like she was standing in some sort of graveyard.

The sudden sound of footsteps behind her made her jump, and she looked around wildly for a place to hide. She needed to hide, she couldn’t be seen. She couldn’t explain it.

“Yaz!”

It was too late. Yaz spun around, only to come face-to-face with Graham. “Oh. Hi,” she said, in a voice that was probably sullen enough to count as rude.

“Are you and Ryan back, then?” Graham asked. He looked hopeful.

“Uh, no,” Yaz said. “I mean, yes. I mean, well, I don’t know.”

“Very helpful,” Graham retorted. “That definitely answered my question.”

Yaz managed a weak, apologetic grin. “Sorry,” she said. “I just—I don’t know what happened. We were on a mountain…” Her voice trailed off.

“A mountain?” Graham asked, his voice full of skepticism. “Here? In the TARDIS?”

“Yes,” Yaz replied insistently. Right here in the TARDIS. And then something happened, and I was in my bed, and I have no clue where Ryan is.”

“Have you checked his bed?” Graham asked dryly.

“Yeah, actually,” Yaz said, her voice unintentionally snappish. “And I’m actually worried about this, and if you cared for Ryan at all, you would be, too. We don’t know where he is, and he’s in a ‘theoretically infinite ship.’” She made air quotes as she spoke, and it was clear that she was quoting the Doctor.

Graham looked at her, and Yaz could see that he was disgusted by her comment. She knew it was a low blow, but she was sick of all of this. This tension, this anger. It wasn’t healthy, and Graham sitting around and whining like a child was...well, childish.

“I think,” said Graham, finally, in a strained voice, “we should maybe split up to look for Ryan. We’ll cover more ground, and that way, we won’t be around to get on each other’s nerves.”

Yaz met Graham’s gaze with far more confidence than she actually felt. Her? Go journeying into the TARDIS? By herself? She was full of doubts and uncertainties. And, even if she wasn’t going to tell Graham, she was scared. The TARDIS scared her.

Which is why everything she was doing made no sense at all. Which is why it surprised her when she opened her mouth and said, “Deal.”


	5. Circles and Squares

The town bell was just as exciting as the Doctor had been hoping for. A proper iron bell, so big that Mauvril, all eight feet tall and three feet thick, could have fit at least two of him inside. It hung from the top of a tower in the middle of the town square, one that was at least twice as tall as the surrounding houses.

The town square disappointed the Doctor. It was nice enough, she supposed. It was big, and there was a satisfying tower right in the center, but it had one major flaw:

“It’s a circle,” the Doctor said, struggling to keep up with Mauvril as he marched on towards the tower. She couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her voice. “Why do you call it the town square when it’s a circle?”

Mauvril ignored her. He’d been doing that for most of the short walk to the square. (Circle, the Doctor thought, rather crossly.) While she could rationalize his annoyance and subsequent choice to ignore her, it still was irritating. She would never be so disrespectful, she was sure. Not on purpose, at least. Or maybe if they really deserved it.

Mauvril didn’t let the Doctor follow him up the steps of the bell-tower, and again, she could rationalize everything he was doing and excuse it, but it was irritating. The Doctor wanted to be in the middle of the action, doing exciting things and saving the day.

And she really didn’t feel good about all of this stalling. Someone had been screaming out in the forest, and the people of this settlement had responded by either sleeping through it or stalling by deciding to ring a bell and call an official emergency.

At least the bell was properly loud. The Doctor had to put her hands over her ears for it, as it clanged loudly, indecorously, waking up the whole settlement and probably any passing spacecraft.

Clearly, the ringing of the bell was something taken seriously in this settlement. By the time Mauvril had exited at the bottom of the bell tower, horns ever-so-slightly scraping the top of the doorway, townspeople had already begun to emerge, yawning. They wore dressing gowns, and some even had those old-fashioned nineteenth century nightcaps. The Doctor could just imagine them wandering around with a candle.

Instead of candles, many of them were carrying torches and gravity lights. The Doctor grinned slightly. “See those gravity lights they’re holding?” she said, to no one in particular. “That means we’re in the sixty-first century at the earliest. Long way from home, aren’t you?”

Her grin faded as she remembered that Yaz and Ryan and Graham were still all in the TARDIS. They would have enjoyed this so much, and they were all too busy sulking in the TARDIS to enjoy the intrigue and suspense of a mystery on a lonely colony planet in their far future.

This had elements of everything the Doctor loved. All she was missing was her team. Her friends. She wished they were out here, with her.

“Is everyone awake?”

The Doctor turned sharply, disturbed from her reverie. Maesa and Hanna had caught up by now, both shivering in the chill autumnal air. She held up her hands in the universal symbol for I-don’t-know. “I don’t know,” she said, just in case the gesture wasn’t enough.

“What’s going on?” someone asked. It was a middle-aged man in a nightcap and dressing gown; he looked one step away from being Wee Willie Winkie (who ran through the town, upstairs and downstairs in his nightgown) or perhaps some character or other in a movie adaptation of a Dickens novel.

“We heard someone screaming in the forest,” Maesa replied quickly. “And Tansil’s gone missing.”

”Can’t it wait until the morning?” the man asked gruffly. “I mean, I know she’s Hanna’s wife, but that doesn’t stop the fact that she’s…” He lowered his voice. “You know, one of...them.”

The Doctor pricked up her ears. (Not literally, the Doctor only wished she had that sort of ability over her ears. It would be very entertaining.) Was there some sort of contention in the town? Was Tansil part of some less-than-popular political group? Was she a member of one of those obnoxious door-knocking religions?

“You can be quiet, Daren,” Hanna said, her voice pained. “No one wants to hear you being racist.”

“Am I being racist, or am I being smart?” the man replied, eyebrows raised.

“This isn’t a conversation for right now,” Maesa cut in. “We have an emergency, and if you’re as smart as you seem to think you are, you’ll do your damnedest to help. You know the rules.”

Daren shrugged. “The rules are a-changing, lovey,” he said, his voice as nonchalant as his posture. “Sooner or later, you’ll have to pick a side.” He shuffled away, over to some of the other people, who had gathered in a small group on the green around the tower.

Maesa hugged Hanna. “It’s alright, love,” she said quietly. “No one actually listens to Daren, he doesn’t have any authority here.”

“What’s going on?” the Doctor asked.

Hanna and Maesa exchanged glances. “I’ll explain later,” Maesa replied. “When there’s more time.”

That was fair enough, the Doctor supposed. They’d already wasted too much time, time that could have been spent looking for this Tansil person. Or investigating the source of the screaming. The Doctor couldn’t be sure that Tansil’s disappearance had anything to do with the screaming. Of course, the odds of them being linked were very good. The Doctor had been playing dice with the universe long enough to see that.

Mauvril paced back and forth in front of the assembled townspeople. Even in his dressing gown, Mauvril looked intimidating—possibly even terrifying. He was speaking to the townspeople, telling them about the emergency, and he held their rapt attention. The Doctor got the feeling that everyone was a little terrified of him.

“I need volunteers to go into the forest and start looking for someone. Keep an eye out for Tansil—Hanna says it sounded like her voice—but keep in mind that it could be someone else. After all, we have an unexpected visitor on the planet. Who knows if she brought company?” He turned, then, and gave the Doctor an icy stare. She waved in return.

He turned back to the small group in front of him. “And I want you armed and ready to fight,” he added. “Something attacked someone, or at least, that’s what appears to have happened at this point. I don’t want to lose anyone else. Is that clear?”

There was a general murmur of assent from the crowd, and they retreated into their various homes, emerging with what appeared to be energy guns.

The Doctor made a face. “I don’t like guns,” she complained. “They’re good for killing, and we don’t want killing.”

Mauvril turned around, and in only a few steps he made it across the green, so that he was looming over her. “You do realize this is why I don’t trust you?” he asked.

“Because I don’t like guns?”

He shook his head and snorted. “Everything you’ve— _ contributed _ —tonight has been counterintuitive and unhelpful. If there’s something out there that’s wounded or killed Tansil, or someone else that we haven’t met, then we need to keep ourselves safe! And if we kill the threat tonight, it means safety for the rest of the settlement!”

He stalked back to the settlement, not allowing the Doctor to come up with a retort of her own. The Doctor stared at his retreating figure. “And I thought Tractites were supposed to be peaceful,” she muttered.

—————

Ryan was hopelessly lost.

He had been walking around, probably in circles, for the last three hours, according to his phone. He was trying not to check it too often. He didn’t want the battery to run out. And anyway, it would be utterly useless inside the TARDIS. Google Maps couldn’t help him in a place like this.

At least the trees were starting to thin out. He hoped that meant he’d find a path, maybe some signs pointing him in the right direction. Or a food machine. He wouldn’t mind that either; he was starving.

Instead, he was greeted by the sight of green, rolling hills, stretching out in front of him as far as the eye could see. Nestled in one of the valleys between hills, he could just make out what appeared to be a town. Which was odd, since Ryan was fairly certain he was inside the TARDIS.

Actually, come to think of it, could the TARDIS even transport him somewhere outside of it? Ryan considered the question for a moment, then decided to leave it. He didn’t know anything about how the TARDIS worked, and trying to understand it would just give him a headache. It was one of those little things that bothered him about travelling with the Doctor. He was good at mechanics, but the mechanics of a hyper-dimensional time-space machine were beyond him.

He decided to make for the town. If he was outside the TARDIS, it would be good to find people, because if he found people he might find food. And if he was still inside the TARDIS, then he might be able to find a path from there. Maybe once he found a path he could start trying to figure out just what had happened.

And he still needed to find Yaz. She had vanished, right in front of him, and he’d been too busy panicking to even notice until after she’d gone. He didn’t know how he’d gotten into the forest, and he didn’t know where Yaz had gone; if it had been to another forest, to some more familiar part of the TARDIS, back up the mountain they’d been cautiously climbing down. He wished he knew where he was. It would make things so much easier. And he was getting antsy, being completely alone. He didn’t do well by himself. Especially not since Faure.

But he wasn’t going to think about Faure. That wouldn’t help anyone. He looked up at the sky, now that he could see it without trees getting in the way. It was a clear blue, and very bright, but he could see no sign of a sun. He hoped that meant he was still in the TARDIS.

He continued making his way over the hills, his legs getting more and more tired. At last, he sat down and rested. The town was nearer now, but he had been walking for hours since the whole earthquake thing, and he needed to rest.

And then his phone rang.

Ryan quickly checked it, checked the Caller ID and accepted the call. “Hey, Yaz,” he said, trying to sound casual.

On the other side of the phone, Yaz sounded a little panicky. “Where the hell are you, Ryan Sinclair?” she cried, shouting into the phone so loudly that Ryan had to pull it away from his ear.

“Uh, I dunno,” Ryan replied, wishing he could come up with something a little bit more clever. “I think I’m in the TARDIS somewhere, but I’ve never seen this place before.” He paused. “Can you maybe not yell at me?” he added. “I don’t like this situation, either.”

“Right. Sorry.” He heard Yaz take a deep breath. “So you  _ think _ you’re in the TARDIS, but you don’t actually know.” She let out a shaky laugh. “And how am I supposed to find you now?”

Ryan shrugged, forgetting that she couldn’t see him. “I dunno,” he added quickly. “I’ve been making my way over towards a town. At least, it looks like a town.”

“Can the TARDIS make towns?” Yaz sounded incredulous.

“I dunno,” Ryan replied. “Maybe. Probably. I guess I’ll have to find out.” He stood up and stretched with a long, laborious groan.

“What happened?” Yaz immediately asked, all concern.

“Nothing.”

“Then why did you make that noise?”

Ryan grimaced. “I was stretching. Is that okay with you, or did it bother her royal majesty?” he asked sarcastically.

There was a pause on the phone. “Just—never mind,” Yaz finally said. “I’m hanging up. I’m gonna go to the library, see if there’s a map of the TARDIS or something—you can go explore that town, or whatever it is.”

“See you later,” Ryan said. Yaz didn’t reply, only ended the call.

“Well,” said Ryan, speaking aloud to no one. “Guess I’ll explore the town.” He sounded annoyed, but slowly began making his way closer to the town.

And the town prepared for him.


	6. Pleasure Walks

Morrel walked into the forest by way of the main path, shining his torch. He wished he had a gravity light, but those things were expensive, and he couldn’t justify the cost, not when he had a perfectly fine, working torch. He shivered. It was just the cold, he told himself. Just the chill autumn air. He wasn’t spooked, or scared, or anything else that might indicate fear. He wasn’t even  _ nervous, _ certainly not. Morrel was not the kind of man to get nervous. 

Okay, so maybe he was a  _ little _ bit nervous. Shut up. You would have been nervous, too.

He swept his torch around him, trying to survey the forest around him. Branches loomed out of nowhere, the leaves casting shadows across his face. He got the feeling that, if bats existed on this planet, they would swoop out for effect just about now. He let out a short huff, some approximation of a laugh, then quieted down. He didn’t want whatever was out in the forest to hear him.  _ If _ there was anything out there in the forest.

He didn’t really believe in the existence of some terrifying creature or other out in the forest. Sure, he was scared—no, not scared, he reminded himself, just nervous; and even then, he wasn’t  _ that _ nervous—but that was just because there was a _ slight _ possibility that the creature existed. If it was a threat to a Tractite, then it was definitely terrifying.

Of course the other possibility, the one that he had thought of right away, as soon as Mauvril had explained what was going on, that other possibility was much more likely. Okay, so he hadn’t come up with this other possibility—that had been Daren. And while Daren was an idiotic oaf full of more racist platitudes than George Wallace, this time he had a point. It was true that things had been tense lately. And while perhaps this other possibility bordered on paranoia, the scary thing was that it was actually possible.

Morrel wouldn’t actually openly back Daren. There was no way he would admit that Daren had touched some deep, paranoid fear. It wouldn’t do. He had decent, respectable Tractite neighbors. And all of Daren’s talk about Tansil and Hanna’s relationship being a sin of nature against the universe was a load of racist bullshit. If he were seen supporting  _ anything _ Daren said, it would be insinuated that he thought the same. He shuddered. There was no way he would ever want to be equated with that man.

But what if he was right? What if this was some plot engineered by the Tractites? Maybe even by Mauvril himself? What if this was all some ploy to get rid of the humans on K’rox’r?

And if that  _ was _ the case, why was he bothering helping out with this search party? Tansil was part of the problem, and if she were actually missing, good riddance. One less Tractite to deal with if things came to a head.

No. He checked himself quickly. None of this was proven, none of this was even  _ remotely _ likely, the colony was founded  _ because _ of the desire for Tractites and humans to coexist peacefully and happily, the Tractites wouldn’t forget something like that so easily.

He thought he heard footsteps behind him, but he didn’t bother to look behind. It was either his imagination playing tricks on him or it was another settler coming to join him—stick in pairs, stay safe. There was no danger behind him.

So Morrel quickened his pace. He knew it was dangerous, idiotically so, but he didn’t want to talk to whichever person had followed him. They’d just want to gossip about Tansil, and he wanted to be as quiet as possible. Of course, whatever creature was (allegedly) out there, it could probably see, so the torchlight would be a dead—he tried not to wince at the unintended pun—giveaway, but still, they didn’t want to totally shout to the world their location.

The footsteps behind him quickened in response, and Morrel halted and turned around, swinging the torch around to shine in the person’s face. “What is it?” he asked, trying and failing to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

“You really shouldn’t be out here by yourself,” the person replied. She was a woman, one Morrel didn’t recognize. About average height, blonde hair in a bob, eyes screwed up at the light shining in them. She was wearing brown boots and a long coat. “If the thing that made Tansil scream is still out here, you’ll want backup.”

“Who’re you?” It was rude, but Morrel was on edge already. It was scary—no, not scary, he wasn’t scared, just nervous—out here in the woods, and anyway, since when had a stranger landed? He hadn’t heard about any of this. It was, to put it lightly, highly suspicious that a stranger was here on the exact same night that Tansil disappeared.  _ If _ Tansil had disappeared, and it wasn’t some sort of ruse to get rid of the humans.

Oh, he was being paranoid.

“I’m the Doctor,” said the woman. She flashed a bright smile at him. Its effect was ruined by the fact that her face was still screwed up from him shining his torch into her face. “Can you lower that a bit?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said gruffly, not sure what he was apologizing for. “Bit on edge.”

The woman—the Doctor—nodded sympathetically. “Everyone is.” She paused. “And you don’t know me, either.”

He nodded.

She smiled brightly. “I have a bad habit of arriving on planets at just the wrong time, did you know? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been accused of being the mastermind of whatever evil plot is going on that I’ve only just stumbled into. You know, I’ve never once been the one behind the plot.” She paused, considering. “Well, the  _ evil _ plot, anyway. What did you say your name was, again?”

“Morrel?” He didn’t think he’d told her his name.

“Morrel!” The Doctor closed the gap between them and grasped his hand, firmly shaking it. “Oh! Wait, I’m so sorry, I forgot.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Is shaking hands the polite thing to do?”

He leaned backwards. She was intense, almost uncomfortably so. “I guess if you don’t mind being old-fashioned,” he replied, his voice rising like he was asking a question. “Why?”

The Doctor hesitated, her face clouding over. “Doesn’t matter,” she finally said. “Come on,” she added quickly. “Have you found Tansil yet?” She continued walking down the path, and soon would have been swallowed by the oppressive darkness of the forest if Morrel hadn’t thought to shine his light on the path.

“No,” he said, jogging to catch up with her. “Why? D’you know Tansil? Hanna’s family, maybe?”

“I’m just a traveller, Morrel,” the Doctor replied, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the path ahead. “But I was one of the first to hear the scream. I’ve been with Maesa and Hanna and Mauvril and only just got away. I don’t want to stay back in town with Hanna and Maesa, I want to help. Figure out what’s going on.” She suddenly shot him a piercing glance. “Save the day. You understand, I’m sure.”

“Uh...right. Yeah.” No. Not really. He wanted to be at home, sleeping in his bed, not having to worry about some lost or dead or wounded Tractite, injured by some unknown creature that was still roaming free. Or waiting to attack them in some crazy plot to get rid of the humans on K’rox’r. Or was he being lured into a trap by the Doctor? 

No matter which of those was true, he really didn’t understand why the Doctor would  _ want _ to go into the creepy, dark forest, especially with all the potential danger involved. It made no sense.

“You...uh...do this sort of thing often, then?” The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted it. It sounded like he was trying to come onto her. And—he risked looking her over, trying to not be noticed—while she was certainly pretty enough, he wasn’t trying to come onto her. It was a totally inappropriate time. Maybe over drinks after this was over?

To his surprise, the Doctor shrugged nonchalantly. “You could say that,” she said. “It isn’t always this exact thing, but I like to figure out mysteries, right wrongs, take down evil.” She looked over at him again, that same piercing gaze, that same disarming smile. “You could say taking down dictators is a hobby of mine.”

He managed a weak smile, but she wasn’t paying attention to him. No, now the smile had vanished, replaced by a look of concern, of concentration. Her mouth was open, her face scrunched up as she peered ahead into the darkness. “What’s that?” she hissed.

Morrel shone his torch ahead, and together they walked up. The leaves on the path were disturbed, and there was some sort of fabric laying in a messy heap. The Doctor inched towards it. Picked it up.

“D’you think this is Tansil’s?” she asked grimly, holding it up for Morrel to see.

It was a dressing gown, he realized. Most of the townspeople owned one. There were very strict rules in this colony about decency. He had one, he knew even the Tractites had them. And this one was big, far too big for a human.

Still, he made himself shrug. “Possibly,” he said. “It could just...belong to some other Tractite who went for a walk tonight?”

The Doctor looked confused. “Why? Was there another Tractite out tonight?”

He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Was this Doctor, Miss Taking-Down-Dictators-is-my-hobby Doctor, was she really this gullible? He thought his sarcasm was fairly easy to point out. “How the hell should I know?” he asked, more snappishly than he intended. “I doubt it,” he added quickly, before the Doctor could reply. “Most people only go into the forest for pleasure walks.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively, then regretted it. The way the Doctor looked at him made him feel like he was talking to a child. Like there was no way she could ever understand an innuendo.

Of course, why he was making innuendos while they were searching for a potential Tractite body was beyond him. This whole night was bizarre, and really, this was the only way he knew how to cope with it. Hell, if  _ Mauvril _ had been out here with him, he probably would have acted the same way.

But the Doctor had turned around, away from him again, and was looking at the forest path. He edged up closer to her, side by side, and stole another glance at her face. It was scrunched up again into that look of concentration and confusion, like she was trying to puzzle out the mysteries of the universe. “What is it?” he asked.

She pointed out the path in front of them. “One minute, I just need to…” Her voice died off and she crouched forward.

It was then that Morrel realized there was something on the ground. Something dark. And then he saw the Doctor leaning forward, scooping up the dark with her finger—and it was dripping down her finger now, that was disgusting—and then she put it in her mouth. Morrel backed away from her. Really, he could put up with a lot, but that was  _ nasty, _ she didn’t know what germs were on the planet and here she was just  _ eatin _ g something dark and drippy that looked an awful lot like—

“Yep,” said the Doctor. “Yeah. Ah. That was most definitely blood.” She stuck her tongue way out of her mouth and made disgusted noises. Morrel couldn’t really blame her, although he was still reeling a little from watching her  _ eat blood off of the ground, _ oh  _ God, _ what sort of person was this woman?

“Blood?” Oh,  _ God, _ he sounded so weak. Pathetic. Like he was about to be sick. Actually, hang on a minute, he really did feel like he was about to be sick. He swallowed and told himself to  _ get it together, _ if that woman could handle  _ eating _ the blood without getting sick, he could handle just talking about it. He hoped.

The Doctor looked thoughtful. She put her tongue back in her mouth and smacked her lips, and Morrel again fought the urge to vomit. “Yes, definitely blood,” she confirmed. “Hmm, not human, although—” she broke off. “That’s interesting, this is some sort of—” 

“What?”

“Definitely Tractite blood,” the Doctor confirmed, and Morrel suddenly felt ill all over again. She had not only  _ eaten the blood, _ she also somehow could tell the difference between Tractite and human blood by  _ taste? _ How much blood did this woman  _ drink _ on a regular basis? “And also—” the Doctor paused, looked confused. “It’s not  _ just _ Tractite blood, it’s—” she broke off again, and suddenly she was looking very pale in the torchlight. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“What? What else?” Morrel couldn’t believe he was asking her that.

The Doctor shut her mouth and managed a weak smile. “Nothing! Nothing at all. I was mistaken. Happens to the best of us sometimes. Just Tractite blood.” She paused. “That sounded bad. Obviously, there’s nothing ‘just’ about it, this is very important, we should definitely get more people over here. And tell Mauvril about it, I suppose.”

“Right,” said Morrel. They turned to go back, out of the forest, back to the town, but he couldn’t help but steal another glance at her. There was no doubt about it, the Doctor looked dreadful. He wondered what she was hiding. And he felt a little bit scared.


	7. Sure Signs of Insanity

The TARDIS library was huge. Silent. There was the little area that Yaz was used to, that she often visited with the Doctor, but there were only Earth books there. No TARDIS map, nothing that Yaz could use to find Ryan. Yaz wondered if there was some kind of inter-TARDIS teleport system. It would be really helpful.

Why had the Doctor’s people—the Time Lords—chosen to make their ships infinite? It seemed like a major design flaw. If some hostile alien got in, it could just hide somewhere in the TARDIS and then attack or kill the Time Lord pilot. There had to be some safeguards in place for that, there just had to be. The Time Lords couldn’t have been that stupid.

Yaz swallowed hard as she walked through the silent shelves of the library, her throat suddenly dry. It was dusty, like no one had visited this place in years. It probably  _ had _ been years since someone had come back here. From what Yaz could tell, the Doctor’s companions were usually from Earth. It seemed odd to her—out of all of time and space, why pick companions from Earth? Were humans just easily impressed?

She physically shook her head, trying to get the thought out of her mind. That was the goddess speaking. She’d heard the long-winded spiels from Pain more than anyone should ever have to. She turned, then, and began making her way down one of the many long rows of bookshelves. The row stretched on before her, dimly lit, fading into gloom, almost like some sort of corridor in a horror movie.

Trying not to shiver, she continued walking. She was striking out at random, hoping to find something like a map. What would be really helpful was one of those maps like you find in a zoo, one of them with those big, helpful arrows saying “you are here.” The Doctor had explained to her once, long ago, that the TARDIS’s interior dimensions sometimes shifted.

“Even I don’t know her full extent,” she had said, and then pushed her goggles up onto her forehead and blew on the bits of wire she’d been fiddling with under the console. Sparks had flown, and the Doctor had had to grab a fire extinguisher from somewhere and put out a small fire before she could continue.

When she had finished, she had wiped her forehead with her arm and grinned at Yaz. There was a wildness to that grin that had always terrified Yaz a little bit. It was exhilarating. “The TARDIS is dimensionally transcendental,” she’d continued, like there hadn’t been any interruption.

“Yeah, I know,” Yaz had replied, trying to sound annoyed and failing. She was too busy grinning. “But you never tell us what that means.”

The Doctor had shrugged. “That usually gets people to stop asking.” She’d flashed an apologetic smile at Yaz just then. “It means it exists outside dimensions, as it were,” she added cheerfully. “Doesn’t adhere to the laws of reality outside her doors.”

“And that means...what, exactly?”

The Doctor’s smile was replaced with a look of utmost earnestness. “She travels  _ through _ space and time without being  _ part of _ space and time.” She laughed and turned back to whatever it was she was doing underneath the console. “You might say she’s a bit of a complex space-time event.” She looked back at Yaz, clearly expecting her to laugh, too, but Yaz was clueless. The Doctor sighed. “Sorry. You had to be there.”

“How d’you even  _ make _ something like a TARDIS, then?” Yaz had asked. “If it doesn’t exist like you or me?”

The Doctor straightened up at that, banging her forehead on the underside of the console. “Ah!—I’ll be fine, it shouldn’t leave a mark,” she exclaimed. “Now where was I? Oh, yeah: that was a good question, points for that question, Yaz, remind me to add that to the score later. But you’ve made a simple mistake in your reasoning: TARDISes aren’t  _ made, _ not as such.”

“They have to be made, though, don’t they?”

The Doctor blushed. “I suppose so, but it isn’t polite to talk about.” The TARDIS’s lights dimmed and brightened again as if in agreement, like some sort of nod. “TARDISes were bred by the Time Lords—my people.”

“What, like pets?”

“No! Of course not!” The Doctor patted the console comfortingly. “Don’t pay attention to anything Yaz says, old girl, she doesn’t know these things like your or me. She’s not trying to be rude.” Turning to Yaz, she said, “Complex space-time event, remember?”

“So you can’t have a TARDIS as a pet. Okay. Got it. I’ll write that one down, it sounds important.” Oh. Yaz cringed now, remembering what she’d said. She’d been trying to be lighthearted, make a joke. She didn’t like the Doctor calling her rude.

And the Doctor had laughed at that, and nodded. “You really should,” she had told her. “Could save your life one day, if you’re ever imprisoned in a TARDIS birthing bay or something.” Her eyes grew wide. “Although if you’re imprisoned in a birthing bay, you probably have bigger problems than just wanting a TARDIS for a pet.”

Half of those words didn’t make any sense to Yaz, but she had ignored it and laughed, albeit with some uncertainty. There had been a pause, then, and finally, Yaz broke it. “So...what can the TARDIS  _ do, _ then, if she’s ‘dimensionally transcendental?’”

The Doctor had sprung up at that, full of excitement, and began babbling about positronic circuits and artron energy and other things that Yaz couldn’t remember now, since it all was utter gibberish to her. But the Doctor had finished it with something she understood, she remembered that. Now if only she could remember what.

She sighed, slumped to the floor, hugging her knees. The TARDIS had seemed so warm, then. So friendly. She looked up into the gloom of the neverending ceiling and shivered. 

“...Of course, it’s useless to print maps, even of the sections I go to all the time,” the Doctor had explained to her. “The interior shifts every so often, and then I’d have to go and print new maps, and to do that I’d have to make the maps first.” She patted a rounded affectionately. “She doesn’t like mapping out her insides, so I’d have to do it, and it’s a lot of time wasted. Besides,” she had added, “I know the TARDIS like the back of my hand.” She held up her palm to show Yaz.

Yaz had sighed and turned her hand around to show the back of it, but she hadn’t actually been upset, it was more keeping up appearances.

And in the present, Yaz sat up in the half light. “Is that what happened?” she asked out loud. She tried to remember what had been happening before she woke up in her bed. 

She groaned, putting a hand to her forehead. “Oh, you  _ stupid _ ship, why did you have to go and…” Her voice trailed off and she kicked one of the bookshelves. If the TARDIS had gone and rearranged itself  _ while _ she and Ryan had been exploring, then there was no telling where Ryan might be.

“...don’t do that, please.”

Yaz spun around, but there was no one there. Feeling like an idiot, she called out, “Don’t do what?”

The disembodied voice came floating out of nowhere, somehow all around her. “Stop kicking the shelf. It’s annoying and childish.” Unless Yaz was very much mistaken, it was a man who was speaking. A rather stuffy man, very annoying and pompous. At least, that’s what it sounded like.

“Where are you?” Yaz asked. She still felt like any stock character in a horror movie, but she tried to ignore it. This was the  _ TARDIS, _ horror movies just didn’t happen here. She hoped.

“You could say I’m everywhere.” The disembodied voice did, in fact, sound like it was everywhere, but Yaz didn’t like to think about that, so she decided to ignore it. “But,” the voice continued, sounding rather pleased with itself, “I think I’ll just be wherever you’re not.”

Great. A rude disembodied voice in a creepy, dark part of a potentially infinite library on a potentially infinite spaceship. Nothing could go wrong here at all, certainly not. Yaz hoped sarcasm would continue to work as a coping mechanism, because if it didn’t, she was royally screwed.

“If you don’t want to be by me, then why are you talking to me?” Yaz asked. Personally, she thought that was a pretty good question. The Doctor liked to reward companions for asking good questions. Yaz usually was the one getting the prizes. Of course, Yaz was the one who liked knowing everything, being in charge. If she could emulate the Doctor in any given situation, she generally thought that was pretty good.

...Until recently, at least.

“You need my help,” the disembodied voice replied. “And, as much as I hate to admit it, I think I need yours.”

—————

The village was empty. At least, as far as Ryan could tell, it was. It was a small village, rather like the pictures Ryan had seen of colonial settlements back in the 1600s, except more...space-y. Half the houses looked weird, like some sort of alien architecture. In the center of the village, there was a large circle of grass, in the center of which stood a large tower with a locked door at the base.

“Rapunzel?” Ryan had wondered aloud, then shut up. He felt like he was being watched, and anyway, the Rapunzel story he was most familiar with was the Barbie one, so he always felt embarrassed when the fairy tale was mentioned. Listen, he used to babysit the neighbor kids, and they liked the Barbie Rapunzel movie. It wasn’t like he just sat and watched it for fun.

He continued walking through the town, trying doors, going through the empty houses, trying to find someone. It probably wasn’t a good idea to go through someone’s house without their permission—alright, it  _ definitely _ wasn’t a good idea to go through someone’s house without their permission—but the town was dead. The silence was actually kind of terrifying. The sort of horror movie terrifying that Ryan hated.

Although the houses were mostly empty, both of people and of furniture, he found the occasional sock or toy or hat. Ryan wondered if the TARDIS was deliberately trying to put him on edge. The earthquake on the mountain, the disappearance of Yaz, the wandering around aimlessly, and now this mostly-empty town—it all was doing a good job of scaring him. Alright, he wouldn’t go so far as to say he was  _ actually _ scared. Of course not. Just...just… Oh, fine, he was scared.

He continued on, heading into the upstairs of one of the two-story houses, inspecting the bare floors for any signs of people. He peered out the window over the town. It all seemed fake, like the template of a town, like someone had just 3-D printed a town into the TARDIS but forgotten to print the people. Like a weird opposite to a ghost town.

He shouldn’t have been surprised at that, he guessed. The TARDIS was full of weird stuff like that. One time, he and Yaz had found what looked like a giant heap of scrap metal, with a red telephone perched near the bottom of the pile. When they picked it up, it had inexplicably called some hidden phone on the TARDIS console. Everywhere, the TARDIS reeked of weird, hidden secrets. Ryan wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d found whole civilizations living somewhere in the depths of the ship.

Which was one of the reasons why this town seemed so odd. Everything was there, perfect, ready for people, but it was empty. Dead. Except, the way it looked, it didn’t seem like it had ever actually been alive. It made his head hurt if he thought about it too much.

Ryan turned around, ready to head back out of the house and continue exploring, but he stopped in his tracks. You see, there was someone standing there. Staring at him.


	8. Trust Issues

“You’re saying she’s dead?” Mauvril looked at the Doctor with all four eyes, and she could practically see bushy eyebrows bristling, despite the fact that Tractites don’t have eyebrows.

The Doctor shrugged, spreading her hands wide. “I don’t want to jump to conclusions,” she replied, “But…”

“Yes?”

She sighed. “Things don’t look good. We need to be prepared for the worst, but still hope for the best. Tansil could still be alive, couldn’t she? Things don’t look good, but you said there are no natural predators on this planet. Or did Maesa say that?” She shrugged. “Someone said it. I’m sure I heard it said at some point.” Next to her, Morrel cringed, wringing his hands. He seemed almost afraid of Mauvril. She briefly wondered why, but discarded that thought. She didn’t have time for it right now.

The Doctor tried to keep her expression neutral. Well, as neutral as it could be without her getting accused of not caring. If that happened, she’d probably start getting accused of murdering Tansil.

When she had tasted the blood—which, she understood, was not an ideal method of testing something, but it wasn’t like she had a take-along laboratory with her—it had definitely been Tractite. Definitely. And something else, but she could only think of so many things at a time, and the other thing wasn’t something she could devote time to right now. Maybe later. Once they had gotten a little farther in the mystery surrounding Tansil’s disappearance.

Although, given the whole blood thing, she didn’t think they’d get very far before she had to reveal everything. Play all her cards, as it were.

She started then, suddenly. Keeping things secret? Not playing all her cards? Trying to strategize some greater battle while people were possibly dying around her? She was strongly reminded of an earlier incarnation. She pushed away the thoughts that reminded her of her behavior on Faure, the behavior that had led to all the citizens dying as she had run away.

She wasn’t running away this time. It was totally different.

Mauvril was talking again, and the Doctor pulled her attention back to the present, deciding that introspection was not her friend. Not right now, certainly.

“We need to follow the trail,” Mauvril was saying. “If Tansil was bleeding, then the perpetrator of the crime had no choice but to leave a trail. Whoever they were, they clearly wanted to hide the crime, which means we have more opportunities to find clues, if not the killer.”

The group of people listening numbered about a dozen, and a general murmur of assent rippled through the air. One of the Tractites stepped forward, then, his pair of larger eyes wide open in the gloom. “I’m all for finding Tansil,” he said. “Obviously I am, she’s one of us—”

“I object to that!” one of the others, a human, said. “You’re using this to accuse us of being racist, aren’t you? It wasn’t none of us who did this to Tansil, remember that.”

Mauvril held up a large, three-fingered hand. “Enough!” he bellowed, his voice echoing, bouncing off the trees. They were standing at the edge of the forest, waiting for the rest of the search party to get back. It was interesting that they didn't have any form of communicator. By this point in history, it was common for intelligent species to have communicators directly implanted into their ear. The Doctor was again reminded of the neo-Puritan movement, and hoped this wasn’t some sort of weird religious colony. She hadn’t seen any evidence to suggest this yet, but you never knew.

“Where are the others?” Mauvril muttered distractedly. “They should be back by now.” He looked at the assembled group, in their dressing gowns and nightcaps, yawning and trying to hide it. “Everyone can go to bed,” he called out to the group. “We’ll figure out where to go from here in the morning.”

The Doctor immediately waved her hand in front of his face, getting his attention. “You do realize this is incredibly time sensitive, Mauvril?” she asked. “I will not stand by and watch people die, not when there’s something I can do to save them.” That much was true. There was nothing she could have done on Faure. She didn’t like leaving everyone there to die, either, but she couldn’t have done anything to save them. She was saving the lives of her companions, at least. Not that they seemed to care at all.

Mauvril bowed his head. For a moment, the smaller set of eyes opened, flashing, but it was so fast the Doctor wondered if it had even happened. “I don’t like what I am saying, Doctor,” he said, and for the first time that night, he sounded defeated. No longer angry or annoyed or in command, just tired. “I don’t want to risk the lives of anyone else. When you’re the leader of a colony, you’re forced to make decisions like this.” His head drooped.

“But you realize that every second that Tansil is missing, her chances of returning alive go down? We can’t let that happen. I won’t let it happen.

“What do you know of any of this?” Mauvril bellowed, his head snapping up. “You’ve never even met Tansil, but you want to rescue her, except your method of rescuing her puts half the settlement at risk! Never forget, Doctor, that I do not trust you.”

The Doctor put her hands up placatingly. “I never said we had to put half the settlement at risk,” she said quickly. “I don’t want that. I don’t want anyone to die.”

“Then how will you rescue Tansil?”

She shrugged, trying to remain enigmatic. It was so much easier in previous incarnations. She got too excited too easily in this one. “I’ll go into the forest on my own,” she suggested. “I’m not your responsibility, you don’t have to worry about me. If and when I find her, I’ll bring her back, whether she’s dead or alive. That way, you can either celebrate her return or mourn her loss.” Mentally, she added,  _ And there will be no mourning. _

“You forget, Doctor, that I don’t trust you.” Mauvril snorted, sounding very much like an ox. “I fully believe that you would find Tansil and kill her where she lay, and I can’t let that happen. I have a duty to her.”

“I’ll go with her.”

The Doctor and Mauvril both spun around. Hanna stood before them, still in her dressing gown, braid coming undone. Her cheeks were tear-stained and her eyes rimmed with red, but her mouth was set in a firm line, and when she spoke, there was no trace of her tears.

“I can’t allow that,” Mauvril said. The Doctor could see why he was the leader; with that tone of voice, she couldn’t imagine anyone disagreeing with or contesting anything he said.

But Hanna held her ground. “I want to go with. I need to go look. I can’t just sit around here and wait for Tansil’s body to be brought back.”

“This has nothing to do with you,” Mauvril said. “And we need you here in the colony. You’re vital to maintaining the balance here.”

Hanna walked forward and put her hand on Mauvril’s shoulder, surprising the Doctor. “You can last without me,” she said kindly. “Besides, Tansil’s better at keeping the peace than I am. The sooner we get her back, the better.”

“And if she’s dead?”

She squared her shoulders and looked the Tractite in the eye. “Then I’ll be the first to know about it, at least. And we can mourn together.” She managed a laugh, but it sounded shaky. “Surely you can keep the settlement going for a few days, or however long this will take.”

To the Doctor’s great surprise, the Tractite’s shoulders sagged, and he nodded slowly. “I know I can trust you, at least,” he said, his smaller eyes casting a suspicious glance at the Doctor, even as his larger eyes remained fixed on Hanna’s face.

“I trust the Doctor,” Hanna replied. “I know you don’t, but she hasn’t said or done anything to suggest that she can’t be trusted. Come on, Mauvril, this is a dark time—” she allowed herself a grin, “—but the Doctor’s trying to help. I think she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

And then Hanna hugged Mauvril tightly, and in the bright moonslight, the Doctor could see a tear glinting on Hanna’s cheek, just below long, dark eyelashes.

Hanna broke away from Mauvril and went to stand by the Doctor, trying to surreptitiously wipe the tear from her cheek. She looked exhausted; even in the dim light of the twin moons, the shadows forming under her eyes were clearly visible, looking almost like bruises on her cheeks. “I’m ready whenever you are,” she told the Doctor, despite all of the physical evidence that pointed to the contrary.

The Doctor grinned brightly. As she did so, she realized that she was probably coming off as insensitive. Her smile faded a bit. “Let’s go, then,” she said quickly, trying to cover up any of her rudeness. “The sooner we begin, the sooner we find your wife. Do you have a torch?”

“Better.” Hanna held up a dim globe. “I have a gravity light.”

“Did you know, I’ve never actually used one of those?” the Doctor exclaimed. “Not this sort, anyway. How do they get them to stay up?” She took it from Hanna and began examining it, poking it and holding it up to her face to get a better look in the light. As a Time Lord, her vision in the dark was better than a human’s, but that didn’t mean it was fantastic.

“Hadn’t we better go look for Tansil?” Hanna asked. She sounded uncertain. When the Doctor glanced at her face, she looked uncertain.

The Doctor stopped examining the gravity light and with her spare hand, took Hanna’s hand. “Right question,” she said. “Come on, let’s go.” She paused a moment longer, then asked, “How do you turn one of these lights on?”

—————

Graham was regretting his decision to search the TARDIS alone. Was he still angry about Faure? Yes. Did he want time alone to cool off? Yes. Was it smart to wander a potentially infinite spaceship, looking for his missing step-grandson? No. It really wasn’t.

It wasn’t the vast infinity of the ship that bothered Graham, though. Sure, it was a little weird to think about—but then again, it was weird to live inside a police box that was bigger on the inside than it was on the outside, and he’d gotten used to that not long after becoming a permanent member of Team TARDIS. 

No, the thing that bothered him was the emptiness. There were three people currently onboard the TARDIS. The potentially infinite ship. The  _ potentially infinite ship. _ He sighed, annoyed. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

But it was just so  _ creepy _ , he thought, walking along the edge of the swimming pool. This place should be full of people, shouldn’t it? The Doctor was all by herself aside from him and Ryan and Yaz. Didn’t an empty ship that was—he was going to say it again— _ potentially infinite _ bother her at all? Did it not terrify her to be alone in this place?

Oh. Maybe that was why she travelled with friends.

No. No. No. He was not going to start thinking of himself as her friend, not after Faure.The Doctor had betrayed him and Yaz and Ryan on Faure, not to mention all those poor people. He wasn’t going to call a cold-blooded genocidal murderer his  _ friend. _

He wondered why the Doctor had done it. How the goddess had driven her to do such a thing. The Doctor wouldn’t have done such a thing on her own, would she? She had been such a good person, so light, so young, so full of joy. Constantly in awe of the things the universe had produced, always talking about the beauty and wonder inherent in the world.

Try reconciling that to a cold-blooded murderer. To someone who not only  _ committed _ genocide, but  _ defended _ their genocide when confronted about it.

He turned left out of the room with the swimming pool, and stopped in his tracks. Standing in front of him was a person, their back to him. But even though he couldn’t see their face, he could see that he didn’t recognize them. So. A stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually laughed while writing this chapter and I can’t even explain why because it’s a) incredibly stupid, and b) it involves spoilers for future chapters.  
> Also! I’m rereading Genocide, the novel which features the Tractites, and it’s so good! (This is your friendly reminder to read the EDAs). Rereading this novel has led me to expand slightly on physical descriptions of the Tractites, because now I have actual descriptions from the book fresh in my memory, and I don’t have to rely on the (woefully incomplete) TARDIS Wiki page.


	9. Strangers

The stranger looked to be about the same height as Graham. There was a tumble of chestnut curls around the stranger’s shoulders, and a ridiculous green velvet coat, like the stranger was planning on going to some sort of fancy dress party.

“‘Scuse me?” Graham asked, trying to sound both polite and passive aggressive, which was very British of him. The stranger continued to stand there, perfectly still, like he wasn’t even alive. Graham couldn’t even see any movement to indicate breathing.

It would be just like the Doctor to have a random life-sized wax doll or something on the TARDIS. Just to scare people.

Even as Graham thought it, he was ashamed of himself. The Doctor didn’t try to scare people. If anything, it was the exact opposite: she tried so hard to keep people from getting scared, to feel comfortable with her, that it was almost unnerving.

All of a sudden, the figure turned around, facing Graham. It was a man, with shockingly blue eyes and a youthful face—although Graham probably would have described anyone under the age of fifty as looking youthful, so that descriptor may not have been totally accurate. His brown hair was every bit as much a mess from the front as it was from behind, and Graham got the distinct impression that this was some sort of Oscar Wilde character.

“Can I help you?” Graham asked, this time succeeding in sounding both polite and passive aggressive.

The stranger looked at him silently, then finally said, “There’s something wrong.”

Despite the obvious warning, the stranger’s voice was calm, and sounded remarkably soothing.

“Alright now, let’s calm down a bit,” Graham said, even though the stranger sounded calmer than he did. “Why don’t we start from the beginning, eh?” He looked around the corridor, then added, “And maybe find somewhere to sit?”

The stranger’s face remained impassive. “It doesn’t matter to me whether we sit or stand,” he said. “But I suppose, if you want to…” He turned abruptly and began walking down the corridor.

Graham, with all the sense of a character in a horror movie, followed. Fortunately, he was not in a horror movie, or this might have ended differently, but as it turned out, the stranger led him to a large, gothic-style sitting room. 

As soon as Graham stepped into the room, a fire burst into life in the fireplace, crackling loudly. Near the fireplace were chairs, a sofa.

“Will this do?” the stranger asked shortly.

Graham nodded. “How did you know this was back here?”

A ghost of a smile crossed the stranger’s face. “You could say that I live here,” he replied. It was clear from his remark that he was trying to be cryptic.

“What, like a stowaway?”

“Something like that.” The stranger remained standing as Graham found a seat. It was comfortable here, despite the Jules-Verne-slash-cathedral setup. If nothing else, the armchairs were remarkably cozy.

“So,” said Graham, rearranging in his seat to get more comfortable. “What’s wrong?” He wanted to add,  _ And why are you asking me? _ but figured that would come off as too rude. He also wanted to ask who the hell this stranger was, but he wasn’t going to be rude. Passive aggressive was fine, outright rude was too much.

“You want to know who I am,” the stranger observed. Despite the fact that he had said he didn’t need a chair, he sat down, crossing one leg over the other. There was something catlike about the way he moved. It was unnerving. The stranger smiled. “I don’t blame you. It’s smart, not trusting me until you know who I am.”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Graham protested, even though everything the stranger had said was true. Was the man a mind reader? Graham wouldn’t have believed something like that just months ago, but his travels with the Doctor had made him more open to the possibility that any random stranger could read his mind.

“You were thinking it, though,” said the stranger.

So he  _ was _ able to read minds.

“I’m not able to read minds,” the stranger added. “You looked like you were wondering that.”

“Sure,” said Graham. “That’s something a mind reader would say.”

“Whether you believe me or not is irrelevant. I’m not a mind reader.” The man was silent for a moment. He looked like he was debating whether or not to say something. Then he opened his mouth. “I’m...a projection.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Graham realized that he sounded rude.

But the stranger—the projection, whatever that was—didn’t seem to notice. Staring straight ahead, as if he couldn’t even see Graham, he said, “I’ve been created by the TARDIS. You could say that I  _ am _ the TARDIS.”

“The TARDIS is a bloke?”

The stranger glanced at Graham oddly, a frown on his face. “I don’t think I—that is, the TARDIS—has a gender. Not the way you would define it.”

“My bad,” said Graham quickly, crossing his arms defensively. He didn’t fully understand all the gender talk like Ryan and Yaz did, but he gathered that it was rude to be dismissive of it. Just because it didn’t matter to him didn’t mean it didn’t matter to anyone else. TARDIS included. “You just look like a bloke.” He hoped that wasn’t the wrong thing to say.

If it was, the man—no, the person—who claimed to be the TARDIS didn’t object. Instead, he (they? Graham wondered) looked confused. “I don’t look like a man,” he objected. “I look like the Doctor.”

“No you don’t,” said Graham, rude before he could stop himself.

The TARDIS didn’t continue the argument. Instead, it said, “You only know a small facet of the Doctor, Graham. I have known them from the beginning.”

“Okay,” said Graham. He was out of his depth. He had no clue what was going on, but he wouldn’t admit it out loud. He just wanted to get this over with. He didn’t want to talk about the Doctor, not while he was still angry at her. “But you said there was something wrong, didn’t you? What’s happening?”

A shadow crossed the stranger’s face, his bright blue eyes flashing a shade darker. “I am weak,” he finally said. “The last planet we went to—Faure—greatly weakened my defenses. The goddess was constantly battering my shields, and with her greater mental capacity, she was nearly successful in a mental breach of my shields.”

“But I can’t do anything about it,” Graham protested. “I’m not the Doctor. I can’t fix you or help or anything.”

“I need the Doctor,” said the stranger. “They can help me. They can fix my shields. We need to leave this world; it’s dangerous here, more dangerous than the Doctor or anyone else realizes.”

“Then why did you take us here?”

“It was a random materialization!” the stranger snapped. It was the first real sign of emotion they’d shown, and it took Graham by surprise. “Neither the Doctor nor I had any idea where we would touch down, and then the Doctor left. I’m lucky that you chose not to go with them.”

“Ryan and Yaz are here, too,” Graham said, confused.

“Singular them.”

“Oh.” Graham pinched the bridge of his nose, then recrossed his arms. It was what he did when he was annoyed. He wondered if he should try and break the habit. “But I can’t leave the TARDIS right now,” he added. “I’m looking for Ryan.”

“Ryan is safe.”

“Yeah, and how do I know for sure? I don’t trust you, and I don’t trust your ability to know the safety of my grandson.” Graham leaned back in his chair, wishing he had another pair of arms, so he could cross those.

The stranger paused, then stood up. Graham wondered if the unusual, feline movements were an effect of the person being a TARDIS projection. He wouldn’t ask, though, because that was rude. He knew he had already been plenty rude. All the more reason to not deliberately be rude. He didn’t know if this person would get mad at some point, and if it really was the TARDIS, then he’d be in trouble.

“Come with me,” said the man. As he walked away, Graham noticed that the wild chestnut curls didn’t move at all. It was unnerving.Graham didn’t like this strange, unnatural TARDIS-projection-thing. Still, he got up with a groan—his joints didn’t like standing up from a comfortable, squashy chair—and followed.

The TARDIS projection led him through several other rooms—some were bedrooms that had all clearly once belonged to other people, and Graham felt like an intruder in this dead space; some were sitting rooms, and one had a giant domed ceiling, giving a glimpse of a starry night sky outside. With every step, Graham felt smaller and smaller, and the TARDIS seemed larger and larger.

At last, the TARDIS projection stopped in a plain-looking room. The floor was wood, three walls were metal; plain, with no photos or paintings or anything hanging up to decorate; and the fourth wall was one big pane of glass, like Graham was standing in some kind of observation room.

“What’s in here?” Graham asked cautiously.

As if in response, the other side of the glass suddenly lit up, and Graham caught a view of rolling hills, a small village. The TARDIS projection turned to him. “Ryan is contained in this.”

“And what is  _ this, _ exactly?”

The man looked out over the panorama. “This is another projection contained within the TARDIS. He’ll be safe. He can come to no harm in there. If he is in the slightest danger, I’ll pull him back out.”

“So Ryan’s...what, hallucinating this, or something?”

“I am projecting the reality he views into the confines of a small space. Ryan thinks he has been hiking for hours, when really, he’s in a projection. None of it is  _ real  _ as he would think of it. It has all been created by myself as a...simulation of sorts. He’s safe.”

“And why is he in there?” Graham asked.

For a microsecond, the man flickered. It was so sudden that Graham was left wondering if he’d imagined it, like an unexpected flash of lightning so bright it momentarily blinds you. “I need your help, Graham,” he said.

“What does that have to do with Ryan?”

The figure ignored him. “I need you to go out on the planet’s surface and find the Doctor. Yaz was hurt badly. She should stay inside, where it is safe for her.”

“How do I know it’s safe for her or Ryan?” Graham asked. He felt like he’d been asking this question constantly, but the man still hadn’t given him a satisfactory answer. “Didn’t you say your shields were broken or something?”

“They’re damaged,” the man conceded with a short nod. “Their integrity is at thirty-seven percent. But it is safer here, with damaged shields, than it is outside.”

“So you’re sending me out there,” Graham said sullenly.

“You are the healthiest of the humans,” the TARDIS projection explained. “Yaz was injured. Ryan is suffering the effects of malnourishment.”

“He’s  _ what?” _ Graham exclaimed.

“He didn’t tell you?” the man asked, sounding surprised. “My scans indicate that, of the crew onboard, you’re the healthiest. The most likely to survive any dangers outside with minimal ill effects.”

“But what about the whole malnourished thing?” Graham asked. “Ryan’s—”

“—Suffering the effects of malnourishment,” the man replied. “He spent, in your terms, about nineteen days without access to proper nutrition and is still suffering those effects.”

“But he’ll be okay?”

“He will.”

Graham sighed. “That’s good, at least.”

“Will you help me now?” the man asked. “We must leave this planet as soon as possible. We cannot stay. I know the Doctor, I know them very well. They will want to stay on this planet and discover what is happening, but I cannot allow it. Only death and ruin will come of it, and I am not strong enough to hold off another attack.”

“D’you mean the goddess is back?” Graham asked quickly. He was going to protest further, since he really didn’t want to go find the Doctor, didn’t want to talk to her, didn’t want to look at her, didn’t want to be near her. But if the goddess was back, if she had somehow followed them, or if they had somehow accidentally ended up on the next planet the goddess visited, or something, then he would put all that animosity aside. He couldn’t let anyone get hurt again. Not like Yaz had been hurt.

“No, the goddess of Faure is not here. But there is another threat, another danger. We must leave this planet quickly.” The man spoke with a sense of urgency that had been missing from his tone before now.

Graham held up his hands. “Alright, I’ll do it. Keep Ryan and Yaz safe, though. I don’t want anything to happen to them while I’m gone.” He looked out through the glass at the hills, the village nestled in a valley between two of them. Ryan was there, somewhere. And he would be safe.

He hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you figure out who the TARDIS looks like? If you didn’t, that’s okay, I’m not quite sure how clear I was, but I can give a hint: he’s my favorite incarnation of the Doctor...


	10. Disembodied Voices and the People Who Own Them

“Who are you?  _ Where _ are you?” Yaz strained her eyes, but despite her best efforts, she still couldn’t see more than a few yards through the gloom. She wasn’t even certain which direction she should look; the voice didn’t seem to have a source. It was coming from all around her, like a great bloody PA system designed to make her scared.

“I’m a friend,” the voice said, and although he sounded friendly enough, Yaz was smart enough not to trust a strange, disembodied voice just because it  _ sounded _ friendly.

She wished someone could be here with her. It was creepy, all alone in the TARDIS. She hated it. It was alright, she supposed, in the areas that she knew, as long as she knew where the other people were. But Ryan was lost, she had no clue where Graham was, and the Doctor had just up and left. Gone exploring. Yaz wished the Doctor had waited. Even if she  _ was _ angry at her.

“Yeah, how do I know you’re not trying to get me to trust you so you can...I don’t know, kill me or something in a bit?” Yaz asked. Her voice sounded braver than she felt.

“You don’t,” the voice replied. The voice sounded posh, and more than a bit stuck-up. Probably just because he sounded posh. Yaz grinned despite herself.

“Then I can’t believe anything you say, sorry,” Yaz said. She should really just leave the library, go back the way she came, wait this out in her room or go out onto the planet or wherever they’d landed. She shouldn’t be sitting here, mincing words with a bloody disembodied voice.

“You’re not going to find anything back that way, you know,” the voice said. It sounded oddly garbled, like there was a bad connection or something. “It would be better if you looked three rows over and one down.”

Yaz tucked a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear. What she really wanted was to sit down and get her breath back, rest her legs a moment. She knew she wasn’t fully recovered from Faure, as much as she hated to admit it. As if in response to her wishes, a bench sprouted up from the floor, and she sat down gratefully. She knew she couldn’t rest long, that she had to find Ryan and help him get back to the safety of the console room, hopefully sooner rather than later, but she also knew she wouldn’t be any help if she was in danger of collapsing.

A series of lights from some unknown source lit up, highlighting a path through the maze of books. “You really should follow this,” the voice said.

“Not yet,” Yaz replied. She sat in silence for a moment. “Why can’t I see you?” she asked.

“I can’t concentrate a form into being at the moment,” the voice replied. It sounded like it was coming from far away. “I’m doing many things right now, and talking to you is just one small thing.”

“Are you a ghost?”

Yaz could practically hear the annoyance in the voice. “No I am not,” it stated archly. It really did sound full of itself. “And you need to keep going.”

“But I can’t,” Yaz protested. She knew she could, if she tried, but she didn’t want to push herself, not when she was still feeling weak.

“You must,” the voice replied. “Time is of the essence.”

“We’re in a  _ time machine,” _ Yaz said. “Time should be unimportant. Shouldn’t it?”

“My dear, we are, as you so accurately observed, in a time machine,” the voice said primly. “Surely you can understand that, as such, time is  _ more _ important here than it is anywhere else.”

Yaz groaned and got up. She tried to ignore the way the bench melted back into the floor, and began following the path marked out for her. She knew it was probably a level of stupidity on par with putting your head in a lion’s mouth, but she wasn’t sure what else to do. She didn’t trust the voice, but there was a chance it was genuinely helpful. If anywhere would have a creepy, disembodied voice that was also totally benevolent, it would be the TARDIS.

She kept going, walking slowly, one hand gripping the bookshelves, steadying her as she made her way down the aisles. The shelves loomed over her, disappearing into the gloom. They almost looked like they were leaning in over her. It was all very claustrophobic.

The lit path led her to a wall at the back of the library. It surprised Yaz. She wasn’t sure the library had an end; after all, it had books from all times and all places. But the wall was in front of her. The shelves around her were empty, but the gloom prevented her from seeing into the other aisles. “What’s going on?” she asked, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

“Thank you,” the voice said.

_ “What’s going on?” _ Yaz repeated, shouting this time. She thought she could hear a breeze, feel it whipping at her clothes, but nothing was actually moving. Even the motes of dust dancing in the air around her had suddenly gone still.

“This is to keep you safe,” the voice said. “The Doctor would never forgive me if you were hurt while inside the TARDIS. You’ll be safe.”

“I don’t care  _ what  _ you’re doing, stop this!” Yaz cried. She stumbled, the sensation of a breeze had increased, turning it into gusts of wind. She stumbled into one of the empty bookshelves surrounding her, smacking her arm against it in a way that was sure to leave a bruise.

“You need to be safe,” the voice said.

“That’s not an answer!” Yaz screamed. The wind, still apparently nonexistent, whipped around her body and she doubled over, shivering. If she died here, now, in the  _ TARDIS, _ where she was supposed to be  _ safe— _ Well. She wouldn’t be happy, that was for sure.

And then it stopped. Yaz’s legs crumpled beneath her and she fell to the ground, arms over her head. She was shaking, and she couldn’t seem to get enough control over her body to stop. The dirt beneath her was cold, she could feel it through her jeans, and—

The dirt. The dirt beneath her. The dirt.

Yaz chanced a glance up, her breaths short, ragged. She could still feel herself shaking. When had it gotten so bright? She couldn’t see a thing until her eyes adjusted, and then, she didn’t think she could believe what she saw.

She was outside. Or something very much like outside. There were green rolling hills and a bright blue sky. She couldn’t see the sun, though, or any source of light. Nor were there any clouds. It was totally silent.

So she was still in the TARDIS. Yaz remembered the mountain range, the brightness despite no sun, the blue, cloudless sky, the silence in the air. She got up slowly, still shivering, and continued to look around. Her mouth opened, forming an  _ O  _ of surprise.

“No,” she finally breathed. She spun around, trying to find some sign of a path, something that could lead her back to the safety of her bedroom or the console room. Bright green grass and hills sprawled out in every direction. “No!” she cried. “I didn’t agree to this! Take me back!”

There was no answer.

—————

Hanna was crying. 

The Doctor didn’t want to call attention to it, as Hanna was clearly trying to hide the fact from her, but she really wasn’t doing a good job of hiding it. There were the shaky breaths, the snuffling and sniffing and blowing of the nose, the red eyes visible in the bright moonslight, the tears shining in the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks. She was a mess, that much was clear. Every step they took further into the forest increased Hanna’s levels of distress.

At last, the Doctor stopped walking and turned to face Hanna. “We can go back if you want,” she said.

Hanna sniffed, then rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. Strands of hair were stuck to her red, blotchy face, wet from tears, and her eyes were red-rimmed and shining with tears. “Why–” Her breath hitched in her throat. “Why would I want to do that?”

The Doctor tried not to sigh. “It’s alright if you’d rather go home,” she said. “I can look for your wife on my own. You need some rest and comfort. Not a long, possibly pointless trek through a forest looking for your wife, who may or may not be dead.”

“That’s exactly why I need to go with you, Doctor,” Hanna said, her words determined even if her voice was shaky. “I need the closure. Besides, Mauvril doesn’t trust you, so someone he  _ doe _ s trust should accompany you.”

“And he trusts you, clearly,” the Doctor said, remembering Mauvril’s words to Hanna before they left.

“I certainly hope so,” Hanna said. Her voice was a little stronger now, a little less weepy. “Given that I’m his sister-in-law.”

If the Doctor had been walking, she would have stopped dead in her tracks. “Really?” she said instead, her eyebrows raising almost off her face in surprise. “I didn’t expect that. Wasn’t expecting that even a little bit.” She offered Hanna a grin. “I didn’t realize Tansil was Mauvril’s sister.”

Despite her red, weepy eyes, Hanna managed a tiny smile. She looked down at the ground with a small, shaky laugh. “I couldn’t tell,” she said. Her crying had made her voice thick, her American accent coming out more sharply around the tears. 

“Then Mauvril must be just as worried as you, mustn’t he?” the Doctor asked. Her face was half in shadow, her eyes reflecting the bright light of the twin moons. 

Hanna shrugged. She was, the Doctor noticed, picking at the skin around her fingernails, like she was uncomfortable. Touchy subject? “Mauvril is too concerned about being the great leader of the settlement to let something as tiny as  _ feelings _ get in the way of governing.” Her voice was flat, bitter. Definitely a touchy subject.

“One of those sorts of people, then,” the Doctor said, full of sympathy. “It can be difficult to deal with people like that, but in my experience, they mean the best.”

“Oh, I  _ know _ Mauvril means the best,” Hanna said, the scorn obvious in her voice, even around the tears. “No one can accuse him of being a bad leader. He just lets everything else get in the way of interpersonal relationships. We all respect him, but none of us really _ like _ him. Not even Tansil.” Her fingers kept working, picking at her cuticles, faster, more anxious.

They continued walking, the moonslight getting dimmer and the light around them slowly getting brighter, grayer. Somewhere outside of the forest, the sun was rising, even if it couldn’t be seen through the trees. The Doctor could see Hanna properly now, see how truly terrible she looked, but she couldn’t tell if it was from stress, tears, or exhaustion. Or perhaps some combination of the three.

“We should stop for a moment,” the Doctor suggested. “You’ve been awake all night.”

Hanna shook her head. “We haven’t found Tansil yet. Until we do–” Her voice broke off. 

“What’s wrong?” the Doctor asked, immediately worried.

“Nothing, it’s...nothing.” Hanna looked around, confusion evident on her face. “I just…” She glanced at the Doctor, then looked away again, scanning the trees around them. “I thought I heard something.” She looked at the Doctor, swallowed hard. “Didn’t you?”

“No, but–”

_ “Shh.”  _ Hanna waved a hand at the Doctor. “It’s back.”

And then the Doctor heard something, just faintly, the sound of a woman humming. It sounded like a Venusian lullaby. But there was something wrong about it, something wrong about the sound.

It was growing louder, the Doctor was sure of it. A woman’s voice, soft, and a little uncertain. She sounded like she was smiling. There was something wrong with it, something glaring, something obvious that the Doctor was missing.

“Wait,” the Doctor whispered, her voice barely audible, scarcely daring to breathe. “That’s me.”

Hanna shot her an odd glance.

“But it couldn’t be me, not unless I went back in time, and I would never be this irresponsible, and I certainly wouldn’t be trying to frighten anyone…” She was babbling. She shut her mouth, tried to keep quiet.

And ahead of them, in the dying gloom of the forest, a woman appeared, stepping out of the early morning mist, humming a Venusian lullaby. Her hair was dark and curly and very, very long. She was short, shorter than the Doctor, her skin a warm, dark brown. She looked from the Doctor to Hanna, then back to the Doctor, a vacant smile plastered on her face.

“Don’t run,” she said, her voice, which still sounded like the Doctor’s, as full of fake, empty smile as her face. “It’s no fun when people run.” The smile dropped. “People tend to get hurt when they try to run away.” The smile returned. “We wouldn’t want that, now, would we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So who else was absolutely ecstatic over Spyfall?? I started writing this series because I was disappointed by the character work in series 11, but it looks like Chibnall may deliver for this new series!


End file.
